


Cold

by loserchic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, M/M, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Sneak Peek, Superhero Alternate Universe, Tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-03-29 23:44:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 33,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3915139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loserchic/pseuds/loserchic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the distant future where corporations own cities and violence and strife are the norm, Derek is a genetically engineered Apex alpha. He and the other Apex alphas patrol Nero City, a city owned by Hale Industries, super hero style, keeping the peace. As an Apex Derek has been designed to be logical, not emotional and many believe he can never love. When Derek comes across Stiles one night, the Apex decides he’s met his mate and takes him back to Hale Industries. Stiles understand the importance of the Apex, but he’s not all that excited about an alpha who is more machine than man. Stiles begins to awaken feelings and instincts in Derek and confusion reigns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

“He’s not human.” Warren Hale looks over his only daughter’s lawn to where his eight year-old grand-daughter, Laura, is playing in the grass, picking dandelions and setting the weeds carefully on the lap of what looks like stony five year-old boy. “He’s better than human.” 

Dr. Talia Hale is sitting next to her father on the wide back porch of her Nero mansion, one of several luxury homes situated on the vast and well-protected campus of Hale Industries. She smiles tightly. “He is something different, Dad. We don’t yet know if he’s better.” 

“Is he healthy?” Warren asks, his old blue eyes keenly fixed on Talia. 

“He’s charting well.” Talia says. “In fact, he’s performed more than adequately in every test we’ve thrown at him thus far. Surpassed our projections.” 

“Can he take orders?” Hale asks.

“Of course.” Talia says, pursing her lips. “Derek has been my pet project since my dissertation when I was twenty-five, Dad. He’s calibrated exactly as planned, down to the smallest detail.” She looks out at the young man. “He is perfect.” 

“Not quite.” Warren says, looking at his daughter. “If your project was perfect, he could be replicated.” 

“He can be replicated.” Talia says. “The old fashioned way- with a mate. An omega. Eventually. When he’s grown.” 

“And if he perishes before he can reproduce?” Warren Hale asks, raising his greying eyebrows. 

“Then we’re shit out of luck.” Talia replies tersely. “Your archeologists could only find me enough genetic material for one- and even then we had to tinker around with the DNA to make it work. Derek is the only shot we have to bring male alphas back.”

“Did you make the genetic alterations I suggested?” The old man asks quietly, pulling at the lapel of his designer suit. 

“As I said,” Talia says. “We didn’t have a choice. The genetic material was incomplete.” She eyes her father darkly. “I did what you asked, Dad- I’ve bred you the perfect assassin. Increased speed, reflexes, muscle mass, eye sight- it’s all there in him. He will secure this city.” She eyes her father somewhat reproachfully, “I hope you’re pleased with yourself.” 

“Quite.” Warren Hale says softly. 

“I know you, Dad.” Talia sighs. “In your twisted fantasies, you think I’ve created some kind of heartless, souless, killer, but let me tell you right now- I don’t see it that way. I’ve simply give you another grandchild- that’s it. How Derek got here is immaterial to me- he’s still my child. We may have artificially produced the seed that brought him here, but I still carried him for nine months- he’s still my son.” 

“Don’t be such a foolish woman, Talia.” The old founder and CEO of Hale Industries says gruffly. “They exterminated all of the Apex alphas and scrubbed the possibility of making more from the human genome two hundred years-ago for a reason! Apex alphas are cold, calculated, pre-historic killers. You’ve read the research on them just as I did. You know that boy- that thing out there will never love, he will never know what it is to feel empathy or compassion, particularly not with his modified temperament. Derek may be a flesh and blood child made from the genetic material of a long-dead preserved fossil, but he’s hardwired more like a machine than a man. We have created a weapon- not a person. He will serve his purpose.” Warren Hale sighs. “I would not have embarked upon this endeavor at all were we not desperate. Without the guidance of the Apex Nero will fall. I cannot let that happen. This is my city. It’s been under the guidance of Hale industries since the United States government privatized city jurisdiction a hundred and fifty years ago.”

“The only reason why the federal government sold off all the major urban cites to corporations in the first place is because the fed was broke and the cities had become unmanageable.” Talia says. “You grandfather should have known the challenges when he acquired Nero.” She frowns. “I’m not sure bringing back the Apex is the best choice to keep the peace in this city- and I definitely disagree with what you said about Derek. Look at Laura and Cora- both of my other children have Apex modifications to their genetic codes and they are perfectly loving, friendly, normal children.”

“You didn’t splice the organic Apex material into the girls.” Warren Hale says, dismissive. “Laura and Cora are synthetic Apex- Derek is the only bonafide, natural Apex in the world. Of course he’s different.” 

Warren Hale looks at the two children out on the lawn. Laura is blowing bubbles and giggling as Derek pops each one decisively with one sharp finger. All of a sudden the little girl lets out a shriek as a large yellow hornet flies near her raven hair. Derek watches it intently for a moment before it lands on the trunk of the apple tree the two children have been playing under. The five year-old moves almost too quickly to seek. Without fear or hesitation, Derek slams on hand down on the hornet, killing it effectively. Laura stares at her younger brother for a moment before pulling a tissue out of her dress pocket and wiping Derek’s hand. 

“You could have gotten stung.” Laura says maternally in her high, little’s girl voice.

The five year-old glares at the squashed hornet. “I didn’t.” Is all he says.

Talia has followed her father’s gaze to the children. She looks back at Warren. “If you don’t think my son can love, how do you expect him to ever mate or produce children.”

“Apex alphas have strong survival instincts.” Warren shrugs. “It’s in all the literature. He’ll take an omega when he knows it’s time. The research indicates that Apex alphas know instinctively which omegas are the most genetically compatible to them and act accordingly. It’s all very efficient.”

“What omega would want a mate who cannot love?” Talia asks quietly. 

“I don’t see how that should be a factor in any of this.” Warren says evenly. “Nero is Hale territory. Derek needs to reproduce to keep Nero safe. When he finds a suitable mate there are ways to ensure offspring.” 

“Dad-“ Talia says.

“The streets of Nero are littered with crime, corruption, gangs, and exploitation.” Warren says. “Your children and the several other synthetic Apex that have been born to Hale Industries are the only chance the innocents of this city have. If I have to blacken my hands to keep Nero from disintegrating into total anarchy- so be it.” Warren lays a hand on Talia’s shoulder. “Why worry about this now, Talia? There will be many years before Derek and the synthetic Apex reach maturity. Let them be children now.” 

“I suppose you’re right.” Talia says. “I only hope the Apex will do what we’ve dreamed and Nero will know some semblance of civil rest after we are gone.”


	2. Company Missive: Hale Industries: Re: Project Apex Roster: Classified

20 Years Later:

Company Missive: Hale Industries: Re: Project Apex Roster: Classified  
Date: 09/12/2227  
From: v.boyd@haleindustries.com  
To: t.hale@haleindustries.com  
Subject: Re: Project Apex Roster 

Dr. Hale- Here is the updated information you asked me to collect at last night’s Apex meeting. There wasn’t too much to update. The file is compete now. Thanks- Boyd. 

PROJECT APEX ROSTER: CLASSIFIED 

Subject A1  
Legal Name: Laura Guenevere Hale  
Code Name: Starkicker  
Mother: Dr. Talia Hale  
Father: Dr. Reve Gunn  
Status: Synthetic Apex alpha  
Date of Birth: 11/04/2200  
Birth Traits: Laura was the first of the Apex alphas to be born. She was born to lead scientist on Project Apex, Dr. Talia Hale and her mate, omega medical engineer, Dr. Reve Gunn. It was unclear from the beginning if Laura would exhibit any of the fabled Apex birth traits. However at just under the age of 12 months, Laura was visiting her maternal grandmother when a fire broke out in the drawing room. The infant Laura showed no fear at the flames, and rather was able to rather the fire through some kind of telekinetic energy and manipulate the flames into short bullet-like blasts. Laura’s person seems to be completely fire-proof, and she has since perfected her gift. Her chosen weapon now is manipulating flame into a long whip-like abstraction. Like all Apex, Laura is unusually strong, flexible, and fast with superhuman endurance. Laura has superior hearing to the other Apex alphas. She was given the name, Starkicker from her peers due to her aggressive fighting style and vindictive temperament while working. 

Subject A2  
Legal Name: Vernon Abraham Boyd  
Code Name: Oblivion  
Mother: Dr. Mari Boyd  
Father: Dr. Abraham Boyd  
Status: Synthetic Apex alpha  
Date of Birth: 04/23/2201  
Birth Traits: Vernon Abraham Boyd was the second of the synthetic alphas to be born to Project Apex. His mother and father are both geneticists for Hale Industries. As a male Apex, Boyd proved to be even stronger and faster than Laura- although the female can beat him running in sprints. He also has typical Apex endurance. Boyd’s Apex birth trait was nearly impossible to ascertain at first as it is mental rather than physical. Boyd can put humans in trance-like dazes for up to a full minute depending on how much energy he puts into his attacks. He can put other synthetic Apex alphas in similar trance states for nearly half that time. The longest he has been able to incapacitate the only natural Apex, subject A3, has been ten seconds. Boyd is intelligent with strong protective instincts and shows much empathy in his character. Laura gave Boyd the name, Oblivion, when they were teenagers.

Subject A3  
Legal Name: Derek Apollo Hale  
Code Name: Scythe  
Mother: Dr. Talia Hale  
Father: Sample A001  
Status: Natural Apex alpha  
Date of Birth: 11/16/2202  
Birth Traits: The third alpha born to Project Apex and the only natural alpha in the world today. Derek is the half-brother of subjects A1 and A7. He was created using the DNA of a fossil of an ancient Apex alpha found frozen in Greenland by Hale Industry scientists. Derek is physically the strongest and the fastest of the alphas of Project Apex. His eyesight, hearing, and sense of smell are enormously acute. Derek was given the name, Scythe, by his grandfather, the CEO of Hale Industries, Warren Hale when Derek proved himself to be the most effective and fearless killer of the alphas of Project Apex at age ten. However, where Derek appears to be ahead of his litter mates physically, he shows little emotional development. Intelligent and calculating, Derek can readily absorb information and recall it, but cannot gauge emotions or emotional needs well. Derek’s Apex birth trait is a legendary one according to the historical records about the original natural Apex. Derek can gauge the morality of an individual merely by being in that person’s presence. Derek instinctively knows the ‘sins’ of an individual- the darkest things that person has ever done or acted on. He seems to be able to smell the corruption within someone. He has tracked down countless murderers, kidnappers, molesters, and violent criminals of all kinds and leads the alphas of Project Apex in their roles as peace keepers of Nero City. The other alphas will usually not kill without his go ahead. However, whereas most of the other alphas attempt to avoid killing as much as possible, preferring instead to turn the captured perpetrators over to the Hale Industry court system and due process, Derek does not compromise and is quick to enact his own forms of justice as he sees fit. As Derek is the only natural Apex alive today, it is imperative that he mate with an omega of his choosing and produce off-spring. 

Subject: A4  
Legal Name: Lydia Peridot Martin  
Code Name: Gemini  
Mother: Lucille Hale  
Father: Dr. Liam Hale  
Status: Synthetic Apex alpha  
Date of Birth: 01/17/2204  
Birth Traits: Lydia is the only child of Dr. Liam Hale, a chemical engineer with Hale Industries and Hale Industries’ head of marketing, Lucille Hale. Lydia is the smallest of the Apex alphas, and like the other female Apex alphas she is an elemental manipulator. Lydia can pull rock and other minerals from her surroundings and manipulate them into either hard bullet-like projectiles or super-heat them into lava. Academically, Lydia is the highest scorer of the Project Apex alphas. She is quite intelligent and remarkably good at strategy and long-term planning. Lydia is also a technology expert and knows the streets of Nero City better than any of the other Apex alphas. 

Subject: A5  
Legal Name: Scott Brian McCall  
Code Name: Chemical  
Mother: Dr. Melissa McCall  
Father: Luther McCall  
Date of Birth: 02/24/2204  
Status: Synthetic Apex alpha  
Birth Traits: Scott McCall is the son of Dr. Melissa McCall, a zoologist with Hale Industries and Luther McCall, a civil engineer of Nero City. Scott is physically slight for a male Apex alpha but he works well with the other alphas. Unlike the other Apex alphas Scott must have physical contract with another person to enact his Apex birth trait. When a victim comes in contact with Scott’s hands, Scott can release a toxin into the victim’s skin, instantly weakening his opponent. The level of toxicity released depends on how long and with what intensity Scott is touching his victim. As a result damage can range from mere sickness to death by blood poisoning. He was given the name, Chemical at birth by Derek when infant Scott accidentally poisoned Dr. McCall during the stress of delivery. 

Subject: A6  
Legal Name: Allison Kay Argent  
Code Name: Sprite  
Mother: Dr. Victoria Argent  
Father: Chris Argent  
Date of Birth: 05/13/2205  
Status: Synthetic Apex Alpha  
Birth Traits: Alison is the youngest child and only Apex born the Dr. Victoria Argent and Chris Argent. Chris Argent serves on the board of Hale Industries and Dr. Victoria Argent is the chief medical officer. Alison, like the other female Apex alphas is an elemental manipulator. Alison can pull water from the air around her or from standing bodies of water and use the force of the water in her attacks. She can also freeze the water into bullet-like projectiles. Allison has shown to have superior reflexes and superhuman hand eye coordination. She uses her birth trait in a ‘gun-like’ fashion more than the other females and rarely misses her target. 

Subject: A7  
Legal Name: Cora Artemis Hale  
Code Name: Starsinger  
Mother: Dr. Talia Hale  
Father: Dr. Reve Gunn  
Date of Birth: 02/14/2206  
Status: Synthetic Apex Alpha  
Birth Traits: The younger half-sister of subject A3 and the full younger sister of subject A1, Cora is the final child of Dr. Talia Hale and Dr. Reve Gunn. Cora is the only female Apex alpha to not have a birth trait that can be used as a ballistic weapon. Cora instead commands wind and uses great gusts of it to send herself into the air, giving her the illusion of flight. Because of her ability to ‘fly’ Cora is one of the fastest travelers of the Apex alphas and also often serves as a lookout. Cora is also able to lift heavy objects using her birth trait.


	3. Scythe: The Hunter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay- here's chapter two. Due to comments I'll probably post my chapters here a week after tumblr from here on out. Thanks for reading. I have the best readers in the game.

Cold. Derek’s first memory is of the cold. Not the powder fresh snow cold of Christmas morning or the smooth mirrored glass cold of a frozen lake. The stiff meat cold of a human body that has been devoid of life and left outside like road kill for hours. The cold body of a man who had been walking home from his job at a gas station the night Scythe was born. Derek had killed that man and later his grandfather would crow that he had done it in cold blood. All Derek knew was after he had felt the life of that rapist drain from between his own two bare hands, Derek had felt sated for first time in his life. He’d been ten years-old.

Even before Scythe, Derek has always known Nero City was a place of great darkness. Scythe had been born out of the evil the way a certain species of moth he had once read about in a textbook had slowly adapted to its surroundings after the industrial revolution, and turned from a snowy white to a camouflaged black in mere generations. Scythe is the logical outcome of his natural habitat and he moves through the greed and corruption easily as a lawn mower through overgrown weeds. An apex predator- the city belongs to him. Nero is a cold, festering corpse devoid of what had once made it a great epicenter of humanity. All that remains in Nero now are social parasites, human maggots- users, takers, exploiters. They’ve all burrowed their way into Nero and Derek wants to exterminate them all. Scythe can smell the sin coming off these pimps, hit men, career criminals, and every day abusers like the stench of rot coming off a corpse. He knows he was born to clean the city of this filth. Scythe craves the blood of the fallen like a mad, starving wolf on a lonesome tundra. He knows no regret, no compromise- only the glory of the kill. The true justice in true elimination, in spilt blood. 

Derek has a mother, but not in the way other people have mothers. Talia is a doctor and he respects her with cold indifference. He remembers when he was small and he lived with Talia and his two sisters- two of his litter mates. Talia had tried to teach him many things he did not understand. Not just how to say, ‘I’m sorry,’ but also why. Then he and Laura would roam the city at night, Laura carrying a lighter of their grandfather’s and Derek carrying a solid oak baseball bat and they’d come across the beaten, dying form of an old homeless man and Derek would think all the apologies in the world are useless. 

Derek has six litter mates- all unlike him, all synthetics. They were all better at learning their manners and saying ‘the magic words’ than he was. Derek knows there is no magic in Nero City, only science. And even then mostly criminal psychology, forensics, motives, and evidence. Derek’s litter mates were raised with him and schooled with him on the protected campus of Hale Industries but they believe in a lot of nonsense that feels a lot like magic. They all seem quite enamored with Due Process and The Court System. Unlike Derek they like things like laws and understand phrases like ‘in the eyes of the court.’ Derek isn’t interested in what a court might see- his vision is better. The thing is, unlike Scythe Derek’s litter mates don’t feel evil- they don’t know what people have done just by being with them. Derek thinks even though his litter mates patrol with him most nights, they walk completely different streets. 

Scythe doesn’t need his litter mates. He prefers to be alone. Without the chatter and clamor of the others, Scythe can focus on the night air of Nero, he can dissect terrible, thick tapestry of scents that clouds the city like mustard gas and pick out the worst offenders. Derek spends his days with his litter mates, hears their laughter, watches them struggle through the ups and downs of living, smells their light, their brightness, their warmth. He often doesn’t know how to react to this. What to do. He knows down to his core his litter mates are good- they smell of the sun, weak as it is. But Derek wasn’t made, wasn’t born into this city for good people. Scythe spends his nights surrounded by the stench of the darkest souls in Nero, his own form nearly suffocated by blackness. This is what Derek was made for- this is Derek’s work. The cold. He is numb with it. 

Derek is efficient. Before Nero belonged to Hale Industries is was called New York. Murderers lived there back then too, but also artists and writers and mathematicians. The streets were dry back when Nero was the Big Apple. Derek guesses they nicknamed the city The Big Apple because there used to be so much food. After climate change shifted the entire world, way back before Derek was born, the floods came and now Nero is a wet city of waterways, streets like narrow pools, and watery graves. There used to only be one city like that, a place called Venice. Now the whole world is wet. Derek has seen pictures. People used to walk on streets instead of rickety makeshift docks and bridge ways. Jet skis used to be loud and splashy instead of silent and fast like they are now. People only used to use them for fun instead of getting groceries or fleeing. It used to be brighter out during the day too. You could look up and see the stars at night without a high powered telescope. Sometimes the sky would be blue during the day. Sometimes it would be white. Now the sky is charcoal-colored during the day, hot, smoldering red at dusk, and a thick black at night.

Derek lives away from the others. They all live in HQ together, a large, beautiful armored house surrounded by a guarded moat at the edge of the city. There are tall bullet-proof windows up there and a library. There is even a greenhouse on the roof where Alison and Scott grow cacti and vegetables. The rooms are large and covered in thick carpets. It is easy to get from apartment to apartment and he knows his litter mates often visit each other’s dens. The whole place is designed to look like the times when Nero was New York. Derek lives below them where he doesn’t have to hear their laughter or be invited to take meals with them. HQ was built on a series of underground caves, and his own quarters are secreted far below sea level in them. He has his own entrance to his rooms where he can pull his custom ski up, and enter through a disguised solid steel door. Derek’s rooms are secured with the best technology and nobody can come within five hundred yards of his front cavern without him knowing. 

Derek leaves his caves alone two nights of the week and Scythe patrols solo while his litter mates take a break. It’s those nights that Scythe tracks the worst of the worst. He’s been tracking a particularly disgusting stench for two weeks now- a putrid smell like rotting semen, blood, and rage. Scythe calls this scent and the monster it belongs to, Foul. Scythe found the first of Foul’s victims two weeks ago- a 12 year-old boy who had gone to get cigarettes for his neighbor and never came home. His body turned up raped and mutilated in an abandoned apartment complex. The boy’s eyes had been punctured. There would be two more bodies of teenaged boys to follow all with the same Foul stench around them. Scythe can smell the scent in the air tonight. It’s not stale the way it is hovering around the corpses of Foul’s victims, but ripe. Foul has taken another victim and Scythe is going to find him before he can take another life.


	4. Scythe: Victim 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 is up on Tumblr.

His name is Stiles Stilinski and he’s an omega. The others were omegas too. Serial killers are almost always alphas and they usually exclusively hunt omegas. Stiles Stilinski is 20, but his coworkers at the diner where he works as a waiter say he looks younger. He hasn’t shown up for work for two days and everyone getting worried. Stiles is reportedly a good kid, hard worker, sends money to his father who lives in a different city. Nobody has a picture of the omega but they say he lives alone in a basement apartment in the crack stacks behind the diner. They say he keeps to himself- keeps his head down and stays out of trouble. Smart kid, Derek thinks. But even the smartest, most cautious omegas are just fish in a barrel in Nero City.

Scythe has tracked Foul’s scent to this diner- the monster has been here many times before, but not for a few days now. The monster has been stalking this omega in plain sight. Hunting him innocuously, probably disguised as a normal human being. The omega never had a chance. Scythe pulls up the collar on his long leather coat and nods to the line cook at the hole-in-the-wall diner as he turns to leave. It’s possible nobody there will ever see Stiles Stilinski again, but Scythe will make Foul pay for what he’s done to the omega and the other three boys in blood and guts and pain. Scythe will make sure Foul won’t live to hunt another night.

Scythe stalks the stalker’s scent out back behind the diner and down the back canals of Nero. There really isn’t a good part of town in Nero, but Scythe finds himself following the trail of black evil into a decidedly rough neighborhood. The houses here are worn and secluded, spaced far apart and rotting from within. Iron bars are bolted over windows and rickety, rusted chainlink fences surround every house. Everywhere garbage and sewage cloud the air with the stench of filth. A normal alpha would never be able to track an omega back here through the stench, but an Apex like Scythe has no problem identifying the smell of omega distress. It hits Derek all at once as he stops in front of the decrepit house at the end of the block. Fear, frustration, helplessness, anger- terror. Scythe growls low in his throat, furious at the scent of the omega’s suffering. He jumps the fence easily and walks up to the door, elbowing his way through, into the disgusting home. It’s been a while since Scythe has made a house call, and he can’t wait to meet this particular monster.


	5. Stiles: The Customer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is up on Tumblr

Stiles was born in Nero and because he’s an omega he’ll likely die here. And sooner than he’d planned. Stiles is face down with his hands tied behind his back with what looks like pantyhose on a blood, sweat, and cum-stained twin mattress in the back room of some disgusting house in the rabid part of the city. He’s not sure how long he’s been here, but it’s been longer than a day at least. Stiles’ body aches and he’s pretty sure he has a concision, but the worst, most troubling pain is in his ankles where his fucking abductor had taken a ten pound sledge hammer to his ankles. Stiles doesn’t know if he’ll ever walk again, but that thought isn’t bothering him as much as the worry that he won’t make it through the week alive.

You know that creepy feeling you get when you first meet someone and you know you’d never want to be trapped on an elevator with them? Stiles is an omega, so his creep-meter is more finely tuned than most peoples’, but he’d had just that feeling a few weeks ago the first time Cyril had come in to the diner during Stiles’ night shift. A paunchy, short alpha who’d reeked of cigars and malt liquor, Stiles has served this new customer almost silently, avoiding eye-contact, and being extra careful to not brush the alpha’s hand with his own when he’d served the strange-looking man his food. Cyril was small for an alpha, perhaps mid-forties, with bushy unkept hair, and was clearly out of shape but there was something about those small, bright, watery eyes that Stiles had immediately not trusted. He hadn’t stayed around the table to make small talk and had done his job as quickly as possible. Stiles hadn’t given the man another thought, only, three days later Cyril had reappeared around the same time and had ordered the same thing- black coffee and had sat in a booth in the back eyeing Stiles intensely the whole time. After about a week, this became a habit. The diner is small and Stiles is often the only waiter working during the night shift, so avoiding this creep entirely wasn’t an option. Stiles had tried to temper his distaste for the man, had tried to treat him as he would any other customer, but something about the alpha really made his skin crawl. Cyril would lean in too close, letting his rancid breath brush Stiles ear, or would purposely brush up against the omega while coming or leaving the diner. Still, Stiles had just figured the man was one of Nero’s many odd denizens and had left it at that. Then, maybe last night, maybe the night before- Stiles isn’t entirely positive, he’d been walking home from his shift at the diner when an old water wagon had pulled up along side him in a back canal. Stiles had stopped and looked down. Cyril had rolled down the window and offered him a ride home. Stiles had declined politely, quickly offering the alpha a cold smile, but the alpha had been out of the vehicle before Stiles could move to grab his mace. The alpha was stronger than he’d looked, he’d forced a terrible smelling rag over Stiles’ face, and that was the last thing the omega knew of the world until he’d woken up sore and terrified and naked in this room, his hands and feet bound painfully, lying on the mattress.

Stiles was a flexible omega and he’d worked and twisted his feet free from the ropes after a while. He’d made a run for it then, only to be stopped cold by the disgusting-smelling customer, and his three enormous, ravenous dogs. Stiles hadn’t even made it out the front door. Cyril had retied the omega down and told him in a nonchalant, unapologetic voice that he had killed omegas before for less and that Stiles belonged to him now. Stiles had spat and kicked and screamed and swore in a very un-omega-like fashion, calling the monster every name he could think of. Cyril had become furious at this show of aggression in the omega, his piggy eyes flaring in pure rage. Cyril had gagged Stiles with a filthy bandana. That’s when he’d left the room and come back with the old ten pound hammer. He’d destroyed Stiles’ ankles in a series of horrific and calculated slams, shatter bone and leaving the room stinking of fresh blood. Then Cyril had smiled and told Stiles he’d never leave this place. Stiles was starting to believe him.

The only good thing so far- if any of this could be considered good is that beyond the violence and keeping him naked against his will, Cyril had yet to touch Stiles in any other way. Stiles knew it was coming, dreaded it, had thrown up several times in the first hours, unable to stop thinking about in inevitable. Stiles had tried his best to keep out of the underbelly of Nero City, but he wasn’t stupid, he wasn’t naive. Omegas went missing in this hell hole all the time. Whenever their bodies turned up later, they had always been raped. Alphas and betas were murdered in violent crimes over territory or money. Omegas were picked off by sexual sadists. This was a fact in Nero. Stiles had just never thought it would be him. Even now, terrified and in immense pain, Stiles plays back the last few weeks over and over, trying to figure out desperately how he could have avoided this. When no answers come, Stiles cries through the gag.

The house has been relatively quiet for a few hours now, just the sounds of Cyril puttering around, doing whatever it is sadist, kidnaper pigs do when they aren’t torturing, when the dogs suddenly go crazy. Stiles lifts his head weakly from the dirty mattress, hearing the sound of Cyril opening the front door and telling the dogs to, “Shut the fuck up.”

The walls are thin, Stiles thinks is something of a miracle the whole house hasn’t caved in already, and Stiles can hear his abductor mutter to whomever is at the door, “What the hell do you want?”

A low alien voice then, cold, raspy and methodical growls, “You Cyril Bordella?”

“Who the fuck wants to know?” Cyril’s voice wheezes out. There’s more barking and some crashing as whomever is at the door shoulders his way into the room. There’s another loud smash and Cyril swears loudly.

Then the raspy, growling voice of the intruder is louder. “You know Stiles Stilinski?” The voice demands. “20 year-old omega? Young, works at the diner in low town. You know where he is?”

“I never heard of him!” Cyril’s voice is high now, obviously scared. Stiles is frozen, petrified on the mattress. “Who the hell are you?”

“I can smell your soul.” The voice hisses, monstrous and dark, almost other worldly. It is unlike anything Stiles has ever heard before. “You reek of the omega’s tears. Where is Stiles, Cyril? Did you kill him like you did the others?”

“What others?” Cyril yelps. “You’re fucking crazy, man! I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about! I’ve never heard of no Stiles!”

“Don’t lie.” The demon voice commands. “You are a pathetic piece of shit, aren’t you, Cyril?”

Stiles blinks, in pain and in shock, but he has to agree with this mysterious intruder. He can smell the alpha stranger now, dark, metallic, alien, and above all- powerful. How does this alpha know who Stiles is? How did he know to look here for him? Stiles lets out a muffled scream, hoping to attract attention. Whomever this intruder is, he can’t be worse than Cyril. There’s a pause. And then like the fury of hell, the battered door to Stiles’ prison burst open, disintegrating under a massive kick. The intruder, tall and dark- massive in the dim lighting of the house come charging in, pulling that shithead, Cyril along with him. Cyril looks seriously nervous and his nose is running with blood. Stiles abductor’s watery eyes won’t even look towards the omega.

Stiles stares up at this new stranger, recognizing him immediately and yet still somehow not believing what he sees. Scythe. Stiles has seen the tall, dark alpha’s face on public notices posted around the city, warning criminals that Hale Industries is watching. One of the Hale corporation’s chosen enforcers- an Apex alpha. Stiles has never seen one up close before but once he’d seen two of the female Apex alphas clearing a scene at the site of a massive fire at an apartment building while walking home. He’d heard whispers of them around the city- about Scythe in particular. People said he wasn’t a man at all, but some kind of lab experiment Warren Hale had cooked up in one of the secret labs on the Hale Industries’ campus. Some say Scythe is a demon machine- an android built to punish law breakers and brutalize the public. They say he’s more violent than the Hale Industries’ people will admit. Some say he’s completely out of control. In person, Stiles can almost believe the rumors are true. Stiles is exhausted from hours of torture and anxiety and to his half crazed mind, Scythe looks huge and otherworldly. His muscles are massive, rippling out his dark leather coat, a statue of a man. His face is blank, almost alien as the Apex carefully takes in the sight of the decrepit room, of Stiles tied and gagged on the mattress.

“Never heard of him, huh?” Scythe hauls Cyril up close, spitting as he growls into Stiles’ abductor’s face. “What did you do to him?” Scythe’s voice is deep and rumbling, the sound of a hell hound. He throws the smaller alpha down violently bellowing, “WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM, YOU SHIT-STAIN?!”

To Stiles’ absolute amazement and Scythe’s apparent rage, Cyril looks up and starts laughing. “That’s right.” He sneers. “I took him. I’ll admit it. I took the other bitches too. I have a problem, man.”

Scythe growls low and terrible, “I’m your problem now.”


	6. Scythe: Animals Get Put Down

Scythe had broken some hustler’s face for the monster’s name. The unwilling informant’s blood is still on his calloused, iron hands even as he punches Cyril Bordella’s nose in. It breaks and explodes red like a blister pack. Pop. The familiarly satisfying sensation of bad blood breaking free from cartilage and skin. The omega is here. Scythe can smell him- unimaginable pain and terror calling out to him through the garbage, through the sewer rot of Cyril’s mind. Although this omega is older than the other victims, Scythe instantly knows upon entering the house this one has suffered more than the other three.

_You know where he is?_

Foul stares up at Scythe, blood pouring down his ugly evil fucking face. He is scared. Scythe can smell the terror pouring out of the piece of shit’s pores in waves now- and it feels good. Someone who has brought that much horror to innocents should know what fear tastes like. Should know what it is to be helpless. Scythe throws the animal up against a wall, getting in his face, cold and merciless as he listens to Foul lie, play innocent even as Scythe’s hand closes over his throat.

A pulse. A heartbeat. Scythe’s thumb is over Foul’s jugular and images flash through the Apex alpha’s mind. Flickers of horror. Thoughts of unthinkable acts. He sees the first victim riding his bike through the waterways of Nero City. He feels the 12 year-old’s dying gasps. The scratches of victim three’s fingers as he tries to claw Foul off of him. The screams and shrieks of victim two as Foul forces himself inside the victim again and again. It is a nightmare litany. The feeling of immense satisfaction as Stiles Stilinski goes limp in Foul’s arms after he’s successfully gassed the omega. How much Foul had liked the dead weight in his murderous hands. Cyril Bordella had liked the control. Had liked the power.

_You are a pathetic piece of shit, aren’t you, Cyril?_

A muffled cry from another room snaps Scythe back to the present. It is the omega. Too often the Apex alphas are too late to save their victims. Too often they find bodies instead of people. This is not one of those times and the victim is calling for Scythe. He kicks down the door, hauling the monster in after him.

The scene sucks Derek’s breath away instantly and he feels as though he’s been blinded. There is a beautiful wounded thing on a mattress. Thrown down and broken like something someone has played too rough with and forgotten. The omega looks up at Scythe with wide, frightened eyes, radiating fear and pain. The omega doesn’t understand what’s happening to him. He doesn’t see the way Derek sees him. Scythe closes his eyes for half a second- just smelling. The omega is pure. Beautiful. Light. Warm. Derek has somehow stumbled on a perfect thing in a world of nightmares. There is goodness and optimism and humor and loyalty in this omega- he is a miracle in this, the darkest circle of hell. He warms Derek’s entire body and Derek knows he must keep this one. This omega, this bright flame of decency and kindness is who Derek has been waiting for without even knowing it.

The omega is in pain. Scythe’s eyes snap open, glowing with anger. Foul has tried to destroy this beautiful creature. Has hurt what doesn’t belong to him. Scythe sees blood. What did he do to the omega? What did that fuck do to hurt him?

“Go ahead. Take me to jail. Lock me up.” Bordella says, confident that scum like him has rights, so sure that Scythe gives a fuck about mitigating circumstances, about a jury of his peers. Bordella doesn’t have any peers. Scythe’s killed every other maggot like him Scythe has come across.

_Jail is for rehabilitation. There is no cure for what you are._

“What the hell are you doing?” The pig squeals as Scythe takes a pair of handcuffs out of his coat and cuffs Bordella to a solid radiator. Scythe looks down on the writhing, wriggling alpha with satisfaction. He is down amongst the dirt and the sewer garbage where he belongs. Scythe turns methodically and picks up the old sledge hammer sitting across the room. “You can’t fucking do this, man! You’re corporate- I know you are. They wouldn’t let you do this! I’m a citizen. I have rights!”

_Men have rights. What you are doesn’t qualify._

Boom. Scythe slams the hammer down on Bordella’s right hand, dispassionately watching the limb turn to pulp. The pig squeals.

“What the hell are you doing?” The omega screams through the gag from the mattress. “Oh my god! Holy shit!”

Boom. There goes the monster’s right foot. More screams. More blood. The omega is still yelling from the bed. Fear and panic coming from all sides of the room.

“Please…” Bordella is begging weakly now. “Please…”

An exterminator does not hear the cries of an infestation. Boom. There goes Bordella’s left foot. Boom. Boom. Up the legs. The hunter of omega’s lower body looks like some terrible pudding now. Scythe sets down the hammer and turns. The omega is begging him to stop. Begging for it to be over. He will calm down after Derek has him in a safe place, after he is in Derek’s den and is clean and has his wounds taken care of. The omega is just frightened and confused. Derek leans over Stiles, taking out a knife and carefully cutting through the omega’s bindings. The omega passes out as he does so, and Derek wraps the precious form of the warm omega up in his coat carefully, cradling him to his chest. He ignores the low moans of the dying vermin chained to the radiator, but before Scythe exits the house with his omega, he calls the monster’s hungry, vicious dogs in to finish the job.


	7. Scythe: A Kiss

The omega’s heartbeat flutters through Derek as the Apex alpha carefully loads the unconscious omega on his ski. The omega is tucked in close, wrapped in Derek’s black leather jacket, slumped against Derek’s chest as he guns the silent motor and takes off across the city into high town where HQ is situated. It’s a forty minute trip on ski from the hole where Foul had kept Stiles captive to Derek’s den, and Derek’s ski is faster than most, black and sleek- Hale Industries issue. He customized it himself with the Hale Industries engineers. There wasn’t a smoother or more silent vehicle out there in the canals. Even the other Apex’s skis had nothing on his. Still, the forty minutes feel like an eternity to Derek. The omega is unconscious for now, but he’s injured and Derek doesn’t know the last time he’s eaten. While they’re flying through back ally ways and around corners, Derek reaches out and presses two of his large fingers over the omega’s jugular feeling the warmth pulse through him like a shot of pure sunshine. 

The images comes fast. Stiles smiling up at an older man- his father. Stiles’ father coughing and hacking in a cut rate Nero City hospital bed. Stiles paying some low level thugs to smuggle his father out of the city to some place- Derek isn’t sure where, with better healthcare. Stiles sending his father as much of his meager earnings as he can each month. Stiles sleeping in a cot alone, a worn book on his chest in his garden level apartment while the people in the next unit fight and scream and break things. 

Derek takes his fingers away from the omega’s slender neck frowning. His omega has had no one up until now to provide for him. No one to keep him safe. Even if Stiles had managed to get to a phone in Bordella’s house or escape somehow, he would not have had anyone to call. This is wrong. 

Derek knows about omegas. When he’d turned eleven his grandfather had sat him down in his vast mahogany study one day and told him about the importance of mating. Derek has known since that day that he would find a mate and they would produce more Apex alphas to keep the city safe. To cut out people who couldn’t understand something as simple as do not murder and do not rape. All of the Apex would reproduce. This was necessary for his grandfather’s city to survive. Derek was a natural Apex. His grandfather told him he would know when he met the right omega- the omega meant to be the mother of his children. Derek had always known this omega would be strong and healthy- genetically fit to carry future Apex alphas, future protectors. He hadn’t known the omega would also be so beautiful or that when he touched him he would feel warmth fill his whole body. Derek didn’t understand any of this, but he knew from the books he’d read in the HQ library that his omega had needs and right now, Derek needed to take care of him. This is important. 

Derek has the oddest compulsion. He leans down and brushes his lips against the omega’s forehead for no logical reason. All he knows is he wants to be closer, he wants to offer some kind of comfort. Derek instantly dismisses the idea as absurd. The omega is unconscious. There is no medical reason for Derek to kiss him. The best thing he can do is get the omega home, safe and tend to his wounds. Derek kicks the ski into higher gear.


	8. Scythe: The Den

The outer entrance of Derek’s cave looks like the cold, slate-grey side of a bluff, jutting out on the outskirts of high town. Sitting high up on the bluff is HQ, beautiful and looming in the night sky. HQ’s basements go down into the cliff, culminating in a series of caves hidden within the rocky side of the bluff. Derek’s cave entrance is concealed, made to look like just another angle of the rocky mountain face. He pulls up through the inky water and hits something on his wrist communication device. One portion of the rocky cliff slides up, revealing a three foot thick door of solid steel. Another code is tapped into Derek’s wrist communicator and the steel door slides away as well. Derek drives the ski in through the opening, into the first cavern of his quarters, closing both doors behind him securely. He parks the ski by the side of the landing and tethers it in the water before carefully stepping out into onto dry land. This front cavern looks like a garage of sorts, an open room filled with high tech equipment and power tools, things Derek uses to work on his ski. Three lighted glass cases contain Scythe’s night uniforms, leather suits made from the latest body armor and lightest protective materials. Another set of metal cases hold some of Derek’s weapons. Derek’s grandfather has given the Apex the best of what his engineers and weapons designers can rig up, but nothing compares for Derek like his own fists. 

Derek carries the omega through another door into his den, a large warm cavern with a fireplace. A large fur rug covers the floor, and Derek’s work table sits off to the side. Derek has several large bookcases filled with leather bound volumes. Everything is neat, clean, almost militaristic in it’s order. Derek doesn’t have pictures or personal items sitting around. Everything here has a purpose. In the corner, Derek’s large round bed sits, neatly made from that morning. There are other doors in Derek’s den as well, one he’s just come from, as well as one that leads into a walk in closet. Another leads out into the hall. The third leads down into a butler’s pantry and to Derek’s large meat locker. Derek prefers to butcher and kill all of his own meat, and carefully stores his provisions where he can get to them easily. There is a small stove in one corner of his den and he has a pot of savory stew slowly simmering on it. A large round tub sits on the other side of the den.

Derek has studied combat medicine and battle wounds with the Hale Industries’ physicians since he was small. As the unofficial leader of the Apex alpha’s he’d thought it would be advantageous to know how to treat any sort of injury that could come up on the spot. Derek has always been good with science and good with math. One of his bookcases is filled with medical texts and journals, both from Nero City and the New York era. Derek sets his omega down carefully on his bed and gently peels off his jacket, frowning deeply. The omega is feverish now, incoherent and blinking up at him with unseeing eyes. He smells of pain and confusion. Derek turns and runs some warm water in a basin before bringing it to the bed and cleaning the omega’s bruised form carefully. The omega whimpers and thrashes weakly at his touch, making high noises in his throat. Derek washes the omega’s face with a soft bamboo cloth and runs a warm, shallow bath in the tub. 

The next hour Derek washes the omega gently and bandages his ankles expertly, stabilizing the smaller man as best he can. This is different than tending any of his teammates. The wounds are worse than Derek has ever encountered without the guidance of one of the Hale Industries’ physicians by his side, but he isn’t about to call a stranger in from upstairs and introduce an alien scent to his confused and ill omega. Derek doesn’t want anyone around right now but the two of them. Stiles needs to get used to his scent, to learn to recognize it as a sign of home and safety. He looks at his books several times, even though he knows he’s doing everything correctly- his anxiety over this smaller creature is confounding. Derek knows logically they are safe here- nobody can hurt the omega while Derek is here and yet he finds himself checking and rechecking his security cameras. Once Stiles is properly bandaged, Derek props the omega up in his bed, swaddling the omega with the softest blankets, trying to warm him. The omega is still murmuring and whimpering incoherently and he’s shaking as well. Derek furrows his brow feeling strangely helpless and not liking it at all. He leaves the omega’s side for a moment and gets a glass of cold water. He returns to Stiles and sits next to the omega, close enough to smell his newly cleaned hair, and gently feeds him the water. The omega makes a distressed noise, but swallows down some, lapping at it like a kitten. 

“You need to stay hydrated.” Derek says quietly to the omega. “You can rest after you drink a little more.” 

The omega is too fevered, too ill to understand him and Stiles sinks back into the pillows weakly. Derek tucks the blankets around him again, still not liking the omega’s tremors. 

“You’re safe now.” He says factually. “He can’t hurt you. Nobody can hurt you here.” 

Scythe doesn’t know for whose benefit he’s speaking, but he feels like it’s information the omega should know. He sits on the side of the bed for a moment longer, looking at Stiles, mentally checking off lists in his head. The omega can’t eat now- Scythe will feed him after he rests some. Stiles is clean, his wounds are bandaged, his temperature should even out after some rest. Something still feels lacking. He looks down at the thin omega, shivering under the soft heavy blankets and frowns. Derek should get up. He should go over some more maps of the city or check over the security footage, and yet he can’t seem to leave his mate’s side. Something inside Derek tells him his mate still needs him. Derek sighs and lays down gingerly next to the omega, wrapping his arms around the quaking body carefully. This feels better, it feels like it’s where Derek needs to be. Perhaps the omega just doesn’t smell enough like him yet. Either way, they both could use some sleep.


	9. Scythe: The Prognosis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Hey guys, this chapter heralds the return of the Omega drop- a concept I used in What You Did to Us, for those of you who have read that fic. I'll return to War Crimes soon. I haven't been in the mood of late- I think the next few chapters of WC are going to take more energy than I currently have. Follow me and the saga on Tumblr.))

Hours later Derek opens his eyes and he is certain everything is how it should be. Derek had never slept next to anyone before in his life. Derek doesn’t see the point in gratuitous touching- never has. He’s never liked the smell of anyone else on him, even his own sisters’. He can’t remember the last time he’d hugged his mother. Hugging is not something Derek has ever understood or felt an attraction to. Long ago, back when Derek was a stone-faced silent child people had stopped trying to touch him. Foreign scents clouded Derek’s work, complicated Scythe’s intuitive sense of the dangerous world around him. Once, Gemini sprained her ankle and Scythe carried her back to HQ. He had done so because he knew he could maneuver the best out of any of the other Apex alphas with the extra weight. The experience had been much the same to him as carrying a bag of potting soil up to the roof garden at HQ.

Stiles is not like that. Derek knows from the books he’s read that omegas need to be touched by their mates. Omegas are disadvantaged physically and as a result they are cautious, thready, and quick to startle. Many omegas develop agoraphobic-like tenancies. They stake out ‘safe’ zones in their lives, often keeping the same place of work for long periods of time and avoid changing routes to and from the places they frequent. They rarely move dens. Unmated omegas keep routines out of instinct. They rarely speak without thinking. They keep small, close circles of friends. They are experts at contingency planning. Many unmated omegas suffer chronic anxiety and insomnia. The touch of their alphas mitigate these symptoms. The books say skin to skin contact between an omega and his mate is beneficial to both parties. A touch reassures an omega, slowing his pulse and calming him. The omega’s touch also calms and alpha, helps him focus, keeps his aggression in check. An unmated alpha is more easily provoked to violence and rage- both physical and verbal. They are more impulsive and prone reckless fighting and risky behavior. Derek has known for a long time that touch would be part of having a mate. He didn’t know that he’d want it though.

Derek sleeps for the same reason he eats- it fuels his body and gives him the energy he needs to prowl the streets at night. As a natural Apex alpha, he needs very little of it and rarely sleeps more than five hours in a night. This is the first time Derek can remember sleeping before his accustomed bedtime. He wakes to find the sleeping omega curled against his chest, still feverish and incoherent, but resting. Sometime while unconscious Derek has curled his arms protectively around the quaking body of his mate, caging the smaller man in tightly. The omega still smells fearful and ill- and Derek doesn’t like that, but the omega also smells like Derek too now, and this is good. There is clarity in touching his omega, in breathing in the scent of him. The omega’s scent isn’t a contamination the way everyone else’s is- it feels like an extension of Derek’s own scent. Only it’s better. More beautiful in some confounding way. Derek feels the oddest sense of contentment simply lying here, smelling the warm body next to his, knowing they are safe and warm inside his den together. Contentment is new to Derek. He’s not sure how to take it.

There are things to consider. The omega has been severely injured by Foul- this is true but there isn’t a reason Derek can think of for the omega’s incoherence, for the way the omega can’t seem to gage what’s going on around him. Derek needs to figure this out. There might be something seriously wrong with his mate, something Derek needs to make right. He carefully slides away from the sleeping form of his mate and walks over to his medical bookshelf, pulling down several volumes. Rather than take the books over to his work table, the way Derek would normally have while studying, Derek takes the books back over to his bed, sitting next to the sleeping omega.

The answer comes at last in Dr. Louis Methuselah’s volume, _Distress Scent: The Emotional Health of the Omega_ :

_Omega Drops: The Trauma Response System_

_Omegas are arguably the most vulnerable of the three genders and have historically been more at risk to many traumatic experiences such as rape, domestic abuse, forced pregnancy, child abuse, and murder. Biologically omegas have a singular response system to traumatic events, although how this system works is unique to every individual omega. Each omega will respond to situations and experiences differently, however omegas as a gender are the only group that has been observed going into a distinct response state to trauma, coined by Dr. Frederick Monroe as an Omega Drop. Medically there are two kinds of omega drops as defined by the Omega Diagnostic Reference Guide. The most common and least severe of these is the mezzo-drop. A mezzo-drop is usually a state brought about by emotional stress or overall instability in an omega’s life. This state can occur when an omega is nutrition insecure, is living in an unsafe environment, or feels threatened chronically. A mezzo-drop is characterized by nausea, weight loss, depression, anxiety attacks, fainting bouts, and an inability to keep down food without vomiting. This is usually a sign that something needs to change in the omega’s life to add security and stability. If left untreated the symptoms of a mezzo-drop can prove fatal._

_The second and far more rare form of an Omega drop is known as a megalo-drop. Megalo-drops usually only occur when something particularly traumatic happens to an omega, such as a serious injury, witnessing something particularly violent, the death of a close loved one, or being repudiated by the omega’s mate. Mezzo-drops can occasionally go unnoticed by both the omega and those close to him, however Megalo-drops are impossible to ignore. An omega experiencing a megalo-drop will be completely unable to recognize the world around him. He will be running a high fever and is often non-verbal or only able to express himself in singular words. This is a serious condition which typically lasts anywhere from five days to a month. During a megalo-drop the omega will be sensitive to all sensations- light, touch, sound, and taste. Omegas cannot live through a megalo-drop without constant monitoring and help. Omegas in megalo-drops are most often hospitalized. Their temperatures must be monitored as well as their fluid and calorie intake. Omegas suffering a megalo-drop will need help with all basic daily care- bathing, eating, and drinking. If left alone megalo-drops are always fatal. The best prognosis for an omega in a meglo-drop comes for those with devoted mates. An omega will recover from a megalo-drop if he is kept in a safe, secure place, surrounded by safe smells, and isolated from outside or threatening influences. The omega’s mate is always the best choice for a care giver in these situations as the omega will instinctively call for his mate in such a circumstance. If an omega instinctively feels safe, secure, and stable the fever will break and the omega will come back into consciousness, often with a cloudy memory of what has taken place during the drop. Omegas are survivors through instinct. Given enough consistent care and attention, an omega experiencing a megalo-drop will come out of it and return to himself and, ultimately to health. If left neglected or in a continuously abusive situation, the omega will decline rapidly and perish. Scientists hypothesize that due to the complex nature of omegas’ emotional constitutions, they evolved the megalo-drop response as a sort of merciful way to mentally and emotionally remove themselves from torturous situations. It is a sort of instinctive, nonconscious suicide. Statistically populations with the highest qualities of life suffer the least amount of megalo-drops. However it is difficult to project how many megalo-drop fatalities there are in many of the most violent areas of the world as so many of them go unreported and untreated._

Derek reads the passage over again twice before looking over to the fitful omega. He is satisfied, give the information he’s just read that his mate will recover within a month and return to consciousness. Factually, his mate is physically safe in their den. Derek will provide him with food and keep him sheltered from upsetting stimuli. Omegas who have ‘devoted’ mates are the most likely to recover quickly from megalo-drops and Derek is determined to be more than competent. His mate knows first hand how he, how Scythe has the strength to protect him from anyone who would dare threaten him. Scythe killed Foul and he would kill again. Derek has the resources to give his mate whatever material things he could possibly need or want. There is no reason Stiles won’t come back, won’t be healthy again. Still, something nags at the back of Derek’s mind, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. What if he can’t make his mate better? What if he fails in some capacity and the omega succumbs to this ridiculous nature-induced suicide attempt. No. Doubts and insecurities are absurd. Derek has no experience with either. Derek is strong and the omega is strong. He wouldn’t be Derek’s mate if he wasn’t. There is no reason they won’t get through this together and the omega won’t live to bare Derek’s offspring. Still, Derek isn’t thinking about his future children as he gets up to get a bowl of stew to feed his omega. He’s wondering at how it feels as though everything has changed even though he’s simply following the life course he’s always planned for, always expected.


	10. Scythe: Two Solitudes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3J76jifA-lc

_“Love that consists in this: that two solitudes protect and border and greet each other.”_

Derek moved into the basement caves of HQ when he was twelve- two years after Scythe was born. His den became his neutral, the place he went where everything was orderly, where everything was predictable. Still, Derek harbored no particular affection or emotional connection to his apartments. They were safe- well protected, well secured and practical. They were also far from the laughing, jovial, teasing voices of his litter mates and their eternal need to interact, to be together. But now, suddenly and at the same time it feels as though this has come all too late, Derek’s den is no longer just a place to eat and recharge for the next night. It is now the place where Derek’s omega sleeps and rests and is getting healthy. All of a sudden Derek’s den feels important and he is loathe to lead it. He had not seen the omega coming and yet, he wishes he had come much sooner than this. He wishes the omega had always been here.

Derek has a mate now and he discovers there is a distinct and different rhythm to being mated than being alone. Derek’s time, his thoughts, his energy no longer belongs only to him and the criminals Scythe stalks at night. The omega is always on his mind. When he’s with the omega he wonders if when he will come back to himself, if he’s in pain, if Derek is meeting all of his needs. When he is away from the omega- out at night with his litter mates patrolling the city, Derek’s whole body itches to be back, if only to sit beside the fretful omega and keep watch. Logically, Derek knows nobody, not even his older sister, Laura, or his grandfather can get through the coded locks and steel that protect his quarters and his omega, but he worries somebody will disrupt his fragile mate, or worse- some terrible smelling evil threat will break into his den and take the sickly omega away while Derek is on patrol. The amount of time and thought Derek devotes to completely absurd and horrific scenarios is disturbing to him. He comes home immediately after patrol every morning, no longer lingering in the streets or taking an extra lap after his litter retire for the day. He drives his ski back at a reckless speed and makes a beeline for his nest where his omega lays and smells him for any sign of change, any indication that the omega’s condition has worsened in the hours Derek has been away. And Derek hates being away. For the first time in his life Derek resents Scythe, resents the fact that his duty, his purpose in this life keeps him away from his ailing mate. He’d much rather be in his den- in their den, where the omega can smell him, feel his presence.

One night, about five days after Derek had brought the omega home, Derek has a terrible thought as he’s leaping after a career hit man, over dark bridges ways. What if the omega comes out of the megalo-drop and Derek isn’t there? What if the omega wakes up frightened and alone and thinks his mate has abandoned him? What if he tries to find Derek, find his mate’s scent and manages by some stretch of terrible luck to wander out of the den into the dangerous streets of Nero. Scythe had quickly tackled the faceless murderer and had thrown the man off a building in his sheer and unprecedented panic to get home. He had ran into his den that night. The omega remained unchanged, still fretful, still in need of an unusual amount of rest. Derek had carefully spoon fed the omega his dinner- savory broth and some very tender meat before taking a shower and climbing in next to the omega for the night, breathing in the smell of them together.

In the few short hours when the omega is awake he stares at Derek sightlessly, his beautiful eyes wide and frightened. Derek knows the omega doesn’t really see him, doesn’t see his mate, therefore can’t understand what Derek’s presence means. Derek reads in another medical text that his voice would be soothing to the omega, would reassure him, and coax him more quickly back to health. Only, Derek has never been very good with words or knowing how to talk to people. He’s not sure what to say to the omega- how to make him understand that it’s safe to come back now, that Derek will keep him safe and healthy. So Derek begins to read to the omega. He sits in bed next to his mate and reads him his favorite science articles and passages of Victor Hugo. Sometimes, Derek reads him from the letters of Ranier Maria Rilke and wonders over the mysteries of the poet’s words.

_“It is also good to love: because love is difficult. For one human being to love another human being: that is perhaps the most difficult task that has been entrusted to us, the ultimate task, the final test and proof, the work for which all other work is merely preparation. That is why young people, who are beginners in everything, are not yet capable of love: it is something they must learn. With their whole being, with all their forces, gathered around their solitary, anxious, upward-beating heart, they must learn to love.”_

Derek is eager for his omega to return to health, to be himself again, but he also thinks this time together, this simplicity is good. There will be time later for them to be married, for his omega to meet Derek’s litter mates, for him to understand to true nature of Scythe, for them to plan together for children. Right now the most important thing is that the omega get used to Derek, to understand that Derek can and will provide everything he could ever need or want. When Derek returns to sleep, the omega makes soft noises at his scent and nuzzles in close to Derek’s warm body. And Derek indulges his mate because the books say omegas can’t keep themselves warm very well, that they need and enjoy the body heat of their mates. Derek is happy to share himself with his mate in this way. It’s just one more way he’s doing right for his mate, one more need he’s fulfilling.

The omega’s skin is still very sensitive and at first he bit and scratched in a blind panic whenever Derek would try to bathe him. Derek would frown, his brow creased and gently, yet firmly overpower the omega to clean him. Now, nearly a week an a half later the omega no longer fights him, but allows Derek to undress him and gently wash his hair and body in the tub. Derek surreptitiously ordered bed pants and long, light shirts of the softest cotton and silk blend fabrics for his omega to wear, things that wouldn’t irritate or hurt his skin. Derek also procured all new luxurious sheets and blankets for their bed, so his omega would be comfortable. Noises still upset the omega, and Derek is careful not to make noise out in the garage cavern of his apartments. Light too is still problematic, and most of the time the only light in the den comes from the fire place. Despite these modifications and Derek’s constant diligence, often times the omega wakes, screaming and crying, in the throws of terrible nightmares. Derek holds him through his sobs and the omega stops thrashing at his touch. The omega still cries, his whole thin chest heaving and quaking, and Derek feels helpless. Derek wishes he knew what he should be doing during these episodes. The books are of no help for this.


	11. Stiles: The Stranger Who Watches Over Me

Stiles isn’t sure when or how he lost his body. There was pain. There was terror. There was eminent death. Two dark eyes looking down at his twisted, broken body. Darkness. Then he got lost.

Everything is far away. He is neither alive nor dead- somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Neither in a dream nor a nightmare. All Stiles knows is he’s no longer connected to his own body. Sometimes there is an echo of pain, a sharp after-shock of stinging sensation radiating through him, up from his feet and ankles, but mostly there is just fog. Stiles’ body was broken when he left it- an instrument of torture tying him down to his horrific reality. He can’t recall why, but he knows he had needed to flee his own human form, his own physical presence, he had sought safety in the recesses of his own mind. Here he is untouchable and the world can burn for all he knows.

There is fear here though. Stiles hides in this dark place, in the dark, empty shut down streets of his mind. He keeps on the edges of his consciousness, too afraid to move forwards and at the same time hiding from whatever happened in the past. There is no freedom here, no rest. Sometimes half-alive memories overtake him and wrap their horrific, cold tendrils of previous pain and terror around him, threatening to strangle him, to rip him limb from limb. He screams then, cries, and sobs like a child, hunted and haunted, sure death is not far from him no matter how he hides, no matter how deeply in his mind he cowers. A force hunts him through his mind- a memory like a monster stalks him, never far, always breathing down his neck. Foul. The word like a name echos in the dark streets of Stiles’ consciousness. He can’t remember who or what Foul is but he’s certain that it is the reason he’s left his body, the reason it isn’t safe to return to his home.

There is another here. The one who watches over his body while Stiles hides here in nothingness. A deep presence like a smoldering ember in a dying fire. Powerful and silent, he holds a piece of Stiles, keeps him from disappearing completely into oblivion. He is like a steel shackle, chaining Stiles in an unbreakable tie to his life, to the world he left behind. Sometimes he calls to Stiles, soft and low like great gusts of wind rolling through trees at night.

_Come back. Come back to me._

It is a command. At the same time it is a plea. Desperate and demanding. Patient and ever watchful and at the same time anxious. He- the dark one will wait forever and yet he makes it clear Stiles has been gone far too long already. He is a stranger who is at the same time an essential part of Stiles. Like a vital organ. Something he’s never seen before and yet organic to him. The dark one is a threat. He is a fresh hell. He is a risk. And he is safety. Stiles is afraid of this presence and yet... he longs to obey.

_It is safe. I am here. I am safe._

It is like walking into fire and not expecting to get burnt. And yet. There are times when Stiles will be sitting in the fog, cowering alone in the shadows and all of a sudden he won’t be alone. He can’t explain it, but all of a sudden arms will be around him, strong and sure and warm. Skin against his skin. Alien lips on his brow. Invisible hands wash him gently, large and rough and at the same time careful. Invisible eyes watch over him, steady and unblinking and protective. Like love or fear- the dark one is all around, unseen and yet felt distinctly and strongly. At some point Stiles realizes his scent has changed. He wonders if he still belongs to himself.

_Come home. I am home. It’s okay to come back.  I will make it okay. I have made it okay._

And Stiles tires to hide. Tries to avoid this dark one as much as Foul. He doesn’t want to come back. It’s too much. He’s done with that. It hurts too much.

_I need you. I don’t understand. Come back and teach me to understand._

Stiles’ mother died in childbirth. He doesn’t know the details but he knows she’d wanted a baby for a long time before that. In the end getting what she’d wanted the most in the world had been her undoing. There is only one photograph of her. She sits smiling in a rooftop garden, leaning over a petunia in the charcoal sunlight. Stiles finds himself in that garden and she is there, two dimensional and young, like in that photograph. Her Hale Industries lab coat wrapped around her slim form. She looks up at him, no more than twenty-six, her hands covered in soil. She is his mother and yet she is not. She is another part of his mind. He wishes to God she weren’t.

“Have you come to take me with you?” He asks. “Are we going to be together?”

“We were not meant to be together.” She tells him. “You were not made to be my son.”

“I am broken.” Stiles tells her, his voice echoing and dim. “I should never have been born if this was just going to happen to me. There is nothing for me back there- not even me.”

“You will be okay.” His mother says. “You will be whole again. But it is time. Go back to him.”

“Him?” Stiles asks her, not wanting to go, wanting her to take him away.

“The one who calls for you.” She says simply. “It is time to listen.”

“I don’t know who he is.” Stiles says. “I don’t know what he wants. It isn’t safe.”

“Nothing is safe.” His mother says. “But that is not what this is about. I didn’t decide to have you because it was safe. I took the road I was given and so must you.”

“I don’t understand.” Stiles says.

“It is time.” His mother repeats. “Go back to the one who has watched over you. He has been keeping you, waiting for you to return. It is time. Finish what I started.”

“Who is he?” Stiles asks, his face tense.

“He is the reason.” His mother says. And then.

Then Stiles is lost again.


	12. Project Apex Weekly Meeting: Club Room: Invitation Only (Derek- if you’re reading this sign you’re late!)

Gemini sits with her petite legs curled under her on the largest over stuffed chain in the room, a half-finished crossword puzzle lying untouched in her lap. She purses her lips, a pink pen tapping at her chin. She is pointedly ignoring Sprite and Chemical who are on the sofa adjacent to her, laughing loudly and trying to throw kettle corn into each others’ gaping mouths. Oblivion and Starsinger as leaning over a large holographic map that covers the entire coffee table, using their hands to zoom in and out of intersections. Starkicker is walking in with large silver pot of green tea and some mismatched mugs. 

Finally, Gemini opens her mouth. “Am I the only one who’s noticed Derek’s been acting weirdly?” She asks pointedly. 

Scott turns towards her and a piece of popcorn bounces off his forehead. “Is this another one of those brain teasers? Is this a trick question? Because, Derek is always acting weird in my book.”

“I haven’t actually see Derek around lately.” Alison says.

“Precisely.” Lydia says, rolling her eyes. “He’s hasn’t been out in the city on his own much in the last two weeks at all. I actually think he’s been holed up in his den whenever we aren’t out as a group.”

“And that differs from how Mr. Roboto normally acts how?” Scott says. 

“He seems even more short than usual.” Lydia continues. “I think something is stressing him out.”

“Oh no.” Scott laughs. “Derek does not do stressed out.”

“Everyone can get stressed out.” Gemini snorts. “Particularly in someone in Derek’s line of work.”

“Um. No.” Scott snorts. “We all know Derek is an anti-virus computer program who grew biceps and learned to shave. He doesn’t have enough emotional range to be worried about something.”

“You are such an idiot.” Lydia rolls her eyes.

“He’s probably just tired.” Boyd says, looking up from the map.

“He’s 25, Boyd.” Cora says. “He’s too young to be tired.”

“He’s spent at least one fourth of his life breaking peoples’ faces.” Oblivion reasons. “That has to wear on a guy after a while.” 

“I think he’s probably just found a new fuck buddy.” Scott shrugs.

Cora wrinkles her pug nose, her wild curls flying around as she glares at Chemical. “If you ever mention my brother and sex again in the same sentence I will throw you into a train.” 

“Derek’s never taken any of his past hookups to his den before.” Alison counters. “And let’s be honest- there haven’t been many of them and they don’t last long.” 

“You’d think people would be lining up around the block to have a long relationship with someone with all the personality of a tax form.” Scott snorts. 

“Scott.” Oblivion eyes the younger alpha.

“What?” Scott says, looking innocent. “You think the omegas he picks up like it when he describes sex as ‘satisfying a regrettable and potentially distracting biological urge?’ Yeah, that’s real sexy.” 

“It isn’t our place to judge what Scythe gets up to in his personal life.” Boyd says evenly.

“I don’t know.” Starsinger looks dubious. “Lydia is right. Something is different about him over the last few weeks. He smells... funny.” Cora has the most sensitive nose of the Apex besides Derek.

“Funny, like bad?” Alison asks, looking concerned. “Like, distressed?”

“No...” Cora shakes her head. “Like, different. More human.”

“It is a hookup!” Scott crows. 

“I don’t think so.” Gemini says. “Derek doesn’t walk around with other peoples’ scents on him. He doesn’t like it and he says it messes with the work. I think it’s pretty safe to assume whatever is going on with him is not a sex thing.”

“Thank fucking God.” Cora mutters under her breath.

“I’m sure Derek is fine.” Starkicker says, smiling at her litter mates. She hands Lydia a mug of tea. “He’s probably just consumed with hunting Foul. I’m sure he’s pissed the bastard got away last time.”

“I don’t even know how Bordella survived.” Alison says, shuddering at the memory. “Derek left so much blood at the house.”

“Yeah. I’m sure he’s in a blind rage.” Cora says. “I haven’t even wanted to bring it up with him. I’m afraid he’ll pull a building down or something.” 

“Are you sure he survived?” Scott asks. “Maybe Scythe just took the body somewhere.”

“That’s not Scythe’s MO.” Lydia says. “He always leaves the bodies of the perps for the cops. It’s part of their deal. They look the other way when he kills them, but he has to leave the remains for cataloguing. My guess is he was distracted with getting the victim to a hospital and Bordella got away.” 

“If he’s still alive, he better be hiding good.” Boyd says darkly. “Because if Scythe ever finds him again he’ll make him wish he’d died back there in that house.” 

“I hope Derek is actually taking some time to rest.” Laura says, sipping her tea. “He’s been getting more and more... sadistic lately. I think he needs a vacation.” 

“He needs horse tranquilizers.” Cora smirks. “But you won’t let me spike his coffee.” 

“I’m with Starkicker on this one.” Boyd says. “Putting Scythe on mind altering chemicals is not the answer.” 

“Oh sure, Scythe gets to throw some dude off a building but when I suggest he may need a little help calming down I’m the bad guy.” Cora mutters.

“Just let him be.” Laura says to the group at large. “I don’t want any of you bugging him. He’s got enough on his plate with the Bordella case without you all acting like teenagers.” She frowns. “I saw the case file. That is one killer who isn’t going to stop until we stop him and I want him gone- do you hear?” She looks sternly at her team. 

They all nod quietly in response.


	13. Company Missive: Hale Industries: Operation Eve: Classified

_Company Missive: Hale Industries: Operation Eve: Classified_  
_Date: 10/05/2227_  
_From: l.hale@haleindustries.com_  
_To: t.hale@haleindustries.com_  
_Subject: Operation Eve_

_Mom-_

_Starsinger all but confirmed our suspicions tonight- she verified Scythe’s scent is beginning to change. I have yet to get a visual on the omega, but Scythe’s behavior since the night he almost got Foul still supports our theory that the victim Scythe carried home is Subject E001. It’s almost too much to hope for and I have to remember to stay objective. I worry about the health of the target regardless of who it is, but I just can’t make sense of this situation if the target isn’t E001. It has to be him. It just has to._

_Please tell Police Chief Rogan that I am concerned that Bordella may have targeted the victim on purpose. I know it’s highly unlikely given how classified Operation Eve is, but it’s not something I’m willing to rule out. Also advise the chief that his officers are not to approach Bordella on their own. If Foul survived Scythe there is no telling what he is capable of and I don’t think Derek will ever forgive me I don’t give him the chance to kill Bordella... again._

_My litter mates are starting to get suspicious. I hate keeping things from them- especially Cora, but you know how Derek is. If I can’t confirm the identity of the victim on my own, I’m sending Boyd in to Derek’s den in a few days. Still, I know you can’t be too careful with intelligence- even with those you love. I still think it was a mistake to tell Dad about Operation Eve all those years ago, but I also know you couldn’t have know how much of a pain in the neck that would turn out to be._

_This is what Claudia would have wanted, Mom. I can’t help thinking-_

Laura looks up from her wrist communicator where she’s writing her email, turning to the entrance of HQ’s scientific library at the sound of the door. Her beautiful face curls into a sneer.

“What are you doing here, Lawrence?” She asks the newcomer coldly.

The smaller alpha’s lips tighten. “It’s good to see you as well, Laura.”

“I’m surprised they let a weakling like you off campus after dark.” Laura says, running a haughty hand through her long, black bob. “Aren’t you afraid of the big bad wolves?”

“You always did enjoy your little threats.” The alpha is short in stature, with unruly dark blond hair and eyeglasses. He wears pleated trousers that look a bit ill-fitting next to the svelte, streamlined leather and cashmere of the Apex alpha standing in front of him. “Aren’t you a little old to still be pushing people down on the playground?”

Laura frowns down at the alpha imperiously. She is only half an inch taller than he is, but she looks at him as though he’s two feet tall. “Go away, Lawrence.” She sniffs. “I have enough irritations in my life without you pissing everyone off.”

“So the rumors are true.” Lawrence has intelligent corn flower blue eyes and he doesn’t seem the least bit intimidated by the Apex alpha. He gazes at her, intense and keen.

Laura pales a little, but quickly straightens her shoulders and tosses her head back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She says.

“So the prodigal chicken hasn’t come home to roust.” Lawrence raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t see how that is any business of yours, you mixed metaphor fuck.” Laura hisses.

“Or did Derek just snatch him off the street like the amoral criminal he is?” Lawrence says.

Laura takes a step closer, smiling coldly, her white teeth bared, “Why don’t you go down and ask him? Please- do it. I would love to hear his answer.”

“What’s the point?” Lawrence asks, clearly not cowed by the threatening tone of Laura’s voice. “I’m sure Derek lies just as easily as he tortures and murders.”

“My brother is the only hope this city has!” Laura snarls.

“Your brother belongs in a cage with the rest of the criminals!” Lawrence counters. “He is sick. You know it as well as I do. Only you, Laura, for reasons I will never understand have twisted him into some kind of hero. You and Talia have convinced the other Apex to go along with it. It’s wrong and it is dangerous.” He shakes his head. “You’re my sister. But you didn’t just drink the koolaid- you made it.”

Laura’s face is white with rage. “I know you don’t agree with how Derek was conceived and I know this hurt Dad, but Derek had no control over any of that!”

“Conceived?” Lawrence looks incredulous. “Come on, Laura. Let’s call a spade a shovel. He was manufactured in a test tube and then put into Talia’s abdomen as if she was an omega. Then your grandfather’s minion cut him out nine months later.” He shakes his head. “But forget about how Derek got here- look at what he is now. He’s a madman you’ve somehow managed to convince to company to let run around lose. I know it isn’t his fault he’s a complete sociopath. He’s just the latest poster child for why we scientists shouldn’t try to play God. And letting him be a street legal serial killer is one thing. This- this is taking it too far. Bringing an innocent omega into it? Laura, come on. I know that they began Operation Eve when you were five and too young to stop it, but you continuing on with it is nothing short of evil.”

“You and Dad have never liked Derek.” Laura says, glaring at her half-brother. “And you have never liked my mother. You still blame her for breaking up your parents’ marriage. But this has nothing to do with them and nothing to do with you. You don’t know anything about Derek.” She folds her elegant arms across her chest. “Go back to your classroom, professor. Leave the Apex alone.”

Lawrence sighs, looking tired. “I wasn’t even a year old when our father left my mother. I don’t blame Talia for that. I don’t even blame Derek for what he is. Unnatural meddling with the natural order leads to unnatural products. But the omega-” Lawrence looks up at Laura. “He deserves to know, Laura. He’s not just a byline in your master plan. He’s a person and he deserves to know the truth.”

“Claudia knew-“ Laura starts.

“Claudia was a desperate woman who wanted a baby!” Lawrence counters. “I read the files too. She would have agreed to anything.” He sighs again. “You can still do the right thing, Laura. You have to do the right thing.” The stocky alpha looks up at his bristling statuesque sister solemnly. “Or I will.” He says.

Laura’s eyes flash and her voice grows low and dangerous. “You listen to me, Lawrence. You will keep away from my little brother and his mate or I will burn you alive in your bed- I don’t care if we did come out of the same omega. You will keep out of this.”

“Always so nice to catch up with you, Sis.” Lawrence smiles bitterly. “Tell Cora I said, hello.”

“Just leave.” Laura says. “Get out of my house.”


	14. Stiles: The Stranger with My Scent

Rooibos and scotch. Iron. Stiles’ own familiar cinnamon and autumn wind scent but with undertones of fire and red wine. Stiles’ scent only shaded. Something is different. Something is more. He is not the same. 

You cannot wake up in a different place with a different scent in a different time and not be different yourself.

Pain. Stiles’s eyes shoot open, wide and white, like the hammer is hitting his ankles all over again. He snaps back into his body, chest heaving off the bed, the breath pulled into his lungs in one great gasp. The world comes back, too bright, too sharp- it hurts. He stares into reality expecting to see the face of Cyril Bordella staring down at him. Expecting another blow from the sledge hammer. Expecting to have to resume his fight for his life. For his sanity. 

Dark eyes meet his across the room. Familiar and yet the eyes of a stranger. Scythe. The face on the billboard. The corporate emblem of law and order. Only this isn’t a poster. There is life behind these eyes. The Apex alpha’s scent is all around, infused in the air, in the fabric of the sheets of the bed Stiles is somehow propped on. It’s on Stiles’ skin. It might be in his blood. And this is not the dream world. The pain is acute and nearly blinding. This is neither heaven nor hell. This is real. 

“Who are you?” Stiles croaks. His throat is dry and scratched like someone has forced a hairbrush down his throat. He’s been screaming. 

The dark eyes stare at him a moment longer, metallic. Not cold but not expressive either. There is a moment and then the Apex alpha speaks. 

“You’re safe.” His voice is familiar too. But the last time Stiles heard it- it was not like this. It was not even and calm. It had been shouting threats. Growling with rage. At him? No. At Bordella. Scythe- the Apex corporate watchdog had killed Bordella. Had pounded half of Stiles’ abductor brutally with a ten pound brick of heavy metal into the concrete floorboards of Stiles’ makeshift prison. Oh my god. 

“Where am I?” Stiles demands. He feels like shouting this but his voice won’t obey. It comes out weakly. 

Scythe stands up now from his chair and begins to walk. The Apex alpha is huge, even larger than Stiles’ hazy memory can recall. He is a massive thing, solid muscle. Larger than any alpha Stiles has ever seen. He moves with a meticulous practiced gate. Not quite human, but not an animal either. Almost mechanical. Like the world’s smoothest piece of machinery. Stiles feels a jolt of fear course through him and the air is suddenly thick with his own anxiety. What is this Apex alpha going to do to him? Why is he coming closer? 

Scythe picks up a glass of water and raises it to Stiles’ lips like he’s done this a thousand times before. Stiles shrinks back, his wide panicked eyes staring up at the stranger who isn’t quite a stranger. 

“Drink.” Scythe says.

“Who are you?” Stiles repeats. His throat hurts.

“My name is Derek.” The Apex says and a small frown crosses his stony face.

“You’re one of them.” Stiles says. “You’re one of Hale Industries’ Apex alphas.”

“Yes.” Scythe nods, still offering the water.

“Is this a... a hospital?” Stiles asks tentatively, praying it is. He looks around for the first time. If this is a hospital it isn’t one of the shitty Nero City ones he’s seen before. The bed he’s resting on is large and circular with raised sides- a luxurious nest piled high with natural colored blankets and linens. There are soft pillows and extra throws sitting all around. The chamber is huge, larger than four of Stiles’ apartment put together and the walls are of stone, like a cave. A plush fur rug covers the floor. Bookshelves filled with rich volumes line one wall. A fireplace burns across the room. A large desk stands off to the side covered with maps and charts. Expensive and intricate technology is on the walls and fills a console. Everything is fine and high quality. There are no windows. He is closed in. 

“This is my den.” Scythe says, following Stiles eyes. “You need to drink.” He repeats. 

“What am I doing here?” Stiles asks, continuing ignoring the water.

“You went into an megalo-drop. You passed out in Bordella’s house. I took you here to recover. You’re still weak, but you’ll recover.” Scythe says evenly.

“Why did you bring me here?” Stiles asks, still infinitely confused. A megalo-drop. Okay, well that wasn’t completely unsurprising considering... everything. And that certainly explained why he felt like shit but why hadn’t Scythe taken him to a hospital or the police. Why was he in the Apex’s den. And why- for the love of Christ did it smell like them in here? “How long have I been here?”

“Almost three weeks.” Scythe says. 

“Oh my god.” Stiles gasps, collapsing back into the bed in shock. “What... why?”

“You need to calm down.” Scythe says. “You haven’t fully recovered. You were hurt pretty seriously.”

“My legs...” Stiles sputters, wrenching himself up as quickly as he can, gasping with the pain. He leans down to get a better look. His ankles are expertly bandaged in casts but they ache like nothing else. “They hurt... my legs...” He stares at Scythe, looking for answers. 

“They looked worse than they were.” Scythe says. “You need to keep still, though. You’re still healing. Omegas are unusually good at regenerative growth though. It will be a while until you can walk again, but I think you’ll be able to.”

“Oh my god.” Stiles repeats again, this time softer. “Will you take me home? Who knows I’m here?” 

Scythe stares at him another long minute and Stiles is beginning to wonder if something is wrong with the Apex alpha. 

“You’re safe here.” Scythe repeats. “I killed Bordella.”

“I know.” Stiles says, closing his eyes tightly for one moment. “I remember.” He opens them again. “Thank you. He was going to kill me.” 

“I would not have let him do that.” Scythe says, his voice void of emotion, betraying nothing. “I only wish I had gotten there sooner.”

“I can go home now.” Stiles says. “That’s all that matters.”

“It isn’t safe for you out there.” Scythe says. “It is safe for you here.” 

“You said you killed him.” Stiles says dumbly.

“I did.” Scythe confirms, nodding. 

“Then I can go home.” Stiles says, not understanding. 

“No.” Scythe shakes his head. 

“Why not?” Stiles narrows his eyes. “Why can’t I go home? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing is wrong.” Scythe says. “You should drink something.” 

“Fuck that!” Stiles growls. “Why can’t I go home?” 

“Because you’re my mate.” Scythe says evenly. 

Stiles blinks up at the Apex alpha, wondering if he’s heard him correctly. “What?” He asks and his voice squeaks a little. 

“You are my mate.” Scythe repeats. “I knew it when I saw you. I’m a natural Apex alpha. We know and I do. You’re the mother of my children.”

“Are you kidding me?” Stiles says, breathless.

“No.” Scythe frowns.

“Then are you fucking insane!” Stiles starts hyperventilating. “What the hell are you even talking about? What is this? What is going on? Who are you?”

“My name is Derek Hale.” The Apex alpha says again. “My grandfather owns Hale Industries.”

“You’re Scythe.” Stiles says, a thousand thoughts all converging in his head, all trying to make sense of the alpha’s words.

“Yes.” Derek agrees. “My sisters and I are Apex alphas. We patrol the streets at night. I’m sure you know what we do.” 

“Yeah, I know what the Apex do.” Stiles says, his whole body taking in great gulps of air. “What does that have to do with me?”

“I need to have a mate.” Derek says, his face still impassive. “I need to have children. It’s what all the Apex do. My children will protect Nero like I do. You’re my mate. You will be the mother of my children.” 

“What the actual hell?” Stiles actually manages to scream this time. He jerks his whole body over the side of the bed, in an attempt to run the hell out of this insanity. His body is not onboard with this plan. Pain shoots up his legs and he winds up in an undignified, torturous heap on the floor. His top half seems to be in working order and he scrambles to crawl forwards. The Apex is up and carrying him back to the bed. 

“Stop that.” Scythe says. “You’ll hurt yourself.” 

“Let me go, you psycho!” Stiles yells as hard as he can. “Get the hell away from me! I got to get out of here!” 

“You’re still weak-“ Scythe starts again. 

“I don’t fucking care!” Stiles screams. “Get the fuck away from me!” 

“Stiles, calm down.” Derek says, depositing him on the bed again. “It’s not good for you to be moving around like this.”

“I can’t.. I can’t...” All of a sudden the world is hazy and the insane man carrying him is getting farther and father away. “I can’t breathe...” The world goes black.


	15. Scythe: Questions and Guessing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v525UGbA448

Derek is troubled. He is confused and lost. It is like the first time his grandfather showed him a gun when he was six years old and he wondered at its secret language, how it worked and how to make it talk. He had learned how to use the gun. Once he had learned its laws and its limitations, he had tired of it.

Stiles is not like this. Derek thinks to understand this omega- his omega would be like seeing a shooting star and knowing it for what it is.

Stiles had not responded to Derek in the way he had expected. Derek and Stiles have spent the last three weeks together, smelling each other’s scent, the omega had allowed Derek to feed him, to bathe him, he had leaned into Derek’s touch, and whimpered when Derek left for his night’s work. They had been right together. The world had warmth with the omega in it and it had equilibrium. Derek had felt himself warm to the world, had felt something in him beginning to thaw whenever the omega had pressed his warm, sweet-smelling head under Derek’s neck like it had been made to fit there. It had been good. Derek had been so sure of it. He’d been so sure of Stiles. There was a tranquil perfection, unspoken and unencumbered between them. There had been warmth in this dark unending night.

Just as the birds know just how and when to fly south for the winter, Derek had known the omega was for him with immediate clarity and certainty. The last thing he had expected was for the omega to wake and stare at Derek as if he were a stranger- worse than a stranger. The omega had looked at him like he was a monster. The omega had screamed and tried to run- not to Derek, but from him. He hadn’t wanted Derek’s touch or comfort like he had all the other nights when he’d awoken from some terrible nightmare and had clung to Derek’s chest sobbing and frightened. He hadn’t allowed Derek to wrap his arms around him and provide the warmth and nourishment the omega had so obviously needed. The omega had wanted to leave their home. Derek’s omega had looked at him with the same fear and confusion Derek had seen in the faces of others his entire life. Like Derek was not like other people- like Derek couldn’t be trusted. He had learned to expect this from the scientists and doctors, from the people of Nero City, even from his litter mates, but he hadn’t expected it from Stiles. He’d thought Stiles would understand.

There is a strange sort of aching hollowness radiating in Derek’s chest and he wonders if he might be getting sick. He takes a cool damp cloth and gently wipes his omega’s face, carefully tucking the soft blankets around his omega’s unconscious body. He doesn’t know what he did to cause the omega to fear him so, and for the first time in his life he wishes he knew how to apologize. But Derek doesn’t know the word for the ache in his chest and he doesn’t know how to look it up.

An alarm sounds on Derek’s wrist communicator and he taps the screen, showing the camera’s view of the internal entrance to his home. Boyd is standing at his door, Oblivion Jr. hanging off the large alpha’s hip. Derek is a little relieved to see the other Apex alpha there. Boyd has a mate and he may be able to shed light on this confusing situation. Derek stands and checks on Stiles’ unconscious body one more time before walking out into a hallway and opening the door.

Oblivion Jr.- also known as Avery Boyd hides his face in his father’s shirt when he sees Derek approach. Children never like Derek’s scent.

“Boyd.” Derek nods, stepping aside to allow the two into his home. They turn a corner into a living room and Boyd sets his three year-old son down on a lush carpet, along with a bag of books and children’s toys. The toddler whines petulantly and clings to his father’s enormous knees.

“Avery, can you say hello to Uncle Derek?” Boyd asks with a smile. The child refuses to uncover his face, and shakes his head vehemently. Boyd smiles at Derek, shrugging.

“What are you doing here?” Derek asks.

“Erica made you some cookies.” Boyd says, pulling a tin out of the bag and offering it to the other Apex.

“Did my sister send you here?” Derek asks.

Boyd smiles again. “You haven’t been around lately. She’s just curious as to what’s been taking up so much of your time.”

“Your mate and your children are often time consuming, no?” Derek says evenly, looking down to where Avery is pulling on Oblivion’s pants.

“Sure.” Boyd says looking confused.

“My mate is ill.” Derek says, clarifying.

Boyd’s jaw drops and he does a double take, reaching down quickly to pull his son off of him. “Your what is how?!” He hands Avery a book. “You better tell me what’s going on right now!”

Avery throws down the book and resumes trying to hide behind his father. Derek picks up an expensive tablet from an end table and hands it to the boy.

“Come.” He nods to the shocked alpha. “It is best you leave your child here.”

“Dad will be right back, Avery.” Boyd says to his son, trying to keep his voice half-way normal. He quickly exits the room, following the silent Apex back into the hall. “What the hell is going on, Derek?” He demands. “What is this about a mate? You don’t have a mate!”

“All Apex have mates.” Derek says factually. “I have found mine.”

“Where? When?” Boyd’s eyes are as wide as saucers. “When the hell did this happen?”

“23 days ago.” Derek says. “He was the intended forth victim of Cyril Bordella. I found him injured in Foul’s den.”

“And you took him as your mate?” Boyd is gob-smacked. “Just like that?”

“All of the research and literature on my kind states that we know instinctively who is best suited to mother our children. He is the one.” Derek says. “He fell into a megalo-drop while I was killing Bordella. He has been here recovering ever since. He emerged from the drop only now, but something is still wrong.”

“Okay- hold that thought about Bordella.” Boyd says, blinking, trying to keep up with this flow of unexpected information. “Who is this omega? Is he okay? What do you mean he’s been here recovering? You’ve had an omega down here in your den for 23 days?”

“It was the safest place for him. He needed to be here with me.” Derek says, unable to see why Boyd is so confused about this.

The two men enter Derek’s den and he leads Boyd over to his bed, to where Stiles lays unconscious.

“You said he’d woken up from the drop.” Boyd says, staring down at Stiles.

“He did.” Derek says. “He was disoriented though. He fainted soon after. Then you came.”

“You said he fell into the drop while you two were still in Bordella’s den?” Boyd asks.

Derek nods, stone-faced.

“Well of course he was disoriented, man!” Boyd says incredulously. “You know they don’t remember much when they are in a megalo-drop. It must have been scary as fuck for him to wake up in some random-ass place.”

“This is not a random place.” Derek states. “This is our home.”

“Wait- does he know that? What exactly did you tell him when he woke?” Boyd starts shaking his head, he has a bad feeling about this.

“I informed him of the situation.” Derek responds.

“What did you say? I need to know exactly what you said to him!” Boyd is getting impatient.

“He asked where he was and I told him I was an Apex and we were in my den.” Derek says. “And then he asked why he was here and I told him he was my mate.”

“And then what did he do?” Boyd presses.

“He wouldn’t calm.” Derek says. “He tried to get up and he hurt himself. Bordella crushed his ankles and he is still healing.”

Boyd sighs, looking like he is about to explode with frustration, “Think really hard, Derek- how did he smell?”

Derek closes his eyes for a moment. “Fear. Panic.” He opens his eyes. “Pain.” He says. “He was in pain.”

“No shit.” Boyd says, examining the omega’s ankles. He looks up at Derek. “Does he have a name? Who is he?”

“Stilinski.” Derek says. “His name is Stiles Stilinski. He is twenty years-old. His mother is deceased. His father is an ex-patriot somewhere far from here. He had no one before me.”

“Stilinski.” Boyd repeats. “Are you sure?”

“He is my mate.” Derek says. “I’m sure.”


	16. Stiles: Fight or Flight

Sharp waves of cutting agony. And just like that reality is back, taking Stiles, its unwilling prisoner along with it. Goddamn this shit. This time there is no mistaking where he is, no confusion over the facts: Bordella is dead and yet Stiles’ is still in the custody of a powerful insane person. How could a life that started out so innocuous, so ordinary turn out like this? 

“You have always been fucking bizarre, but this time, Derek, I think you have actually crossed a line that you shouldn’t have. You are an insane person. What the hell were you thinking?” 

There is a voice and it sounds halfway reasonable but it isn’t Stiles and it isn’t familiar. 

“What was I supposed to do?” Scythe’s voice admits no wrong doing. It’s as low and monotone as Stiles’ remembers. “He is my mate and he was badly injured.” 

“I don’t know? Take him to Police Chief Rogan? To a hospital? To Laura? Jesus Christ!” The stranger’s voice again. 

“He was in a megalo-drop. It was in his best interest to stay with me. Strange scents would have only further upset him.” Derek says.

“Derek- you’re a strange scent to him! He doesn’t know you!” The stranger sounds completely exasperated. “I cannot believe I have to explain this to you, but you cannot just take an omega off the street and keep him in your basement without telling anybody! That is insane. You are insane.” 

“I didn’t take him off the street.” Derek counters. “I took him back from Foul. He was badly hurt. He needed me.” A pause. “I couldn’t risk exposing him to someone else. I couldn’t leave him. Anything could have happened to him.” 

“Like being held against his will again?” The stranger asks ironically. 

“He needed me.” Derek repeats. “He needed his mate. I am his mate.” 

Stiles opens his eyes. The large cavern is the same, the only light coming from an annoyingly cheerful fire in the grate. Only now a large Apex alpha Stiles can’t recall every seeing before is standing next to the bed arguing with Scythe.

“Who the hell are you?” Stiles voice is still not up to par.

“Oh my god, it’s awake.” The stranger says.

“Not another Apex.” Stiles mutters, sniffing the air. “You’re like him.” Stiles takes another deep inhale. “No.” He corrects himself. “Not exactly like him. You’re the same... but different.”

“Hello Stiles.” The large newcomer turns to him. “I’m sure you’re pretty confused right now. It’s going to be okay.” 

“How do you feel?” Derek is down next to him with that damn glass of water again and Stiles violently flinches away from the Apex.

“You! Stay away from me!” Stiles says. He looks back up at the stranger. “What the hell is going on here?”

“My name is Vernon Boyd.” The stranger says. “I work with Derek. I’m another of Hale Industries’ Apex alphas.”

“You smell different.” Stiles says, narrowing his eyes.

“I’m a synthetic Apex.” Boyd says. “I’m a lot more like the alphas you’ve met before. Derek is a little different.” 

No fucking kidding. “What do you want with me?” Stiles demands, looking suspiciously at the two enormous Apex alphas. “I want to go home. Take me home.” 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Boyd says, his voice calm and even. “You’re going to be okay. Can you answer a few questions for me?”

“Maybe.” Stiles says, guarded. 

“What is your name?” Boyd asks. 

“You know my name.” Stiles spits, still eyeing Derek nervously. Scythe stares back with his dead eyes, unblinkingly. Stiles glares in return. 

“Humor me.” Boyd says good naturedly. “I have to ask these questions. It’s part of my job.” 

Stiles figures there isn’t much he can do other than be honest in front of Hale Industry Apex alphas. “Stiles.” He admits gruffly. “Stiles Stilinski.” 

“Thank you.” Boyd nods politely. “When were you born?” 

“April 8th, 2207.” Stiles says. 

“How are you feeling?” Boyd asks. 

“Like I need a doctor.” Stiles says coldly. 

“Derek and I both have extensive medical training.” Boyd answers. “We know more than most Nero City doctors. Derek says you’re healing well.” 

“He’s insane.” Stiles answers quickly. “I want to go home. Now.”

“I told you,” Derek answers. “It isn’t safe for you to leave.”

“You can’t keep me here!” Stiles yells back, feeling frightened and angry and exhausted all at once. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Boyd says. “Calm down. Nobody is going to hurt you.”

“He-“ Stiles jabs a finger in Derek’s direction. “won’t let me leave!” 

“It would be unwise for me to let you leave.” Derek says. “You are my mate-“

“You are off your fucking head!” Stiles says back. 

“Derek-“ Boyd shoots a look at the other alpha. “Maybe let’s lay off the mate thing.” 

“I can’t.” Derek says. “He’s still weak and I can’t let my mate wander into danger while he’s vulnerable like this.” 

“I am not his mate.” Stiles informs the room. “I’m not. You’re a fucking lunatic.” 

“I am a natural Apex alpha.” Derek reiterates like a broken record. “I know you’re my mate. You’re the one most suited to bare my children.” 

“I don’t care if you’re the fucking king of Mars.” Stiles shoots back, feeling himself hyperventilating again. “You need to get the fuck away from me!” 

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset.” Derek’s brow furrows and Boyd slaps his own forehead. “I am the grandson of Warren Hale. I’m an Apex alpha. I can protect you and provide you and our children with everything you could ever want or need. You do not have access to proper care or security if you leave.” 

“I don’t fucking know you!” Stiles exclaims.

“You know I can protect you and I can provide for you.” Derek says. “And I’m your mate.” 

“Derek-“ Boyd says softly. “Stiles has been through a lot. Let’s try to not upset him.”

“These are not facts that should be upsetting to him.” Derek looks at Boyd. “I speak the truth.” 

“Oh no, no, no, no, no,” Stiles has his face in his hands now. “I need to get out of here. Mother fucker...”

“Are you in pain?” Derek is down next to him again. “Tell me on a scale from one to ten how much it hurts.” 

“Of course I’m in pain, you freakshow!” Stiles looks up angrily. “I had one crazy person shatter both my ankles and now you won’t let me leave.”

“Nobody is trying to keep you a prisoner, Stiles.” Boyd’s voice is loud but calm. 

“Then why can’t I go home?” Stiles demands. “Are you going to force me to mate with this psycho? Oh my god-“

“Hey,” Boyd holds up both hands. “Nobody is going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. Just calm down. Derek’s right about one thing- you’re still weak. You need to take it easy. Nobody is going to try and make you do anything. We’re the good guys, here.” 

“Then what in the name of all that is holy is going on?” Stiles slumps down, short of breath. “What is happening to me?”

“Nothing,” Boyd says. “You’re in HQ in high town. This is the headquarters of the Apex alphas. We all live here together- the rest of us are upstairs. We didn’t know you were here until now. We only want to help.” 

“Then what is his deal?” Stiles asks, glaring at Derek. 

“I don’t have a deal.” Derek says. “I’m only telling you the truth. You’re reacting irrationally and you need to save your strength.”

“Shut up, Derek.” Boyd mutters before turning back to Stiles. “He’s... he’s just a little different, that’s all. He doesn’t mean any harm, I promise. He’s just... got an unusual way. Nobody is going to hurt you here.” 

“I would never harm my omega.” Derek furrows his brow.

“Stop calling me that!” Stiles orders angrily. 

“Derek I thought we were shutting up.” Boyd glares at him. “Stiles- we’ve been tracking Cyril Bordella for a few weeks now. He killed three other omegas before Derek managed to find you. You’ve been very lucky. You fell into a megalo-drop while at Bordella’s. Derek’s been taking care of you.”

“He’s crazy.” Stiles mutters.

“He’s actually... not crazy.” Boyd winces. “He is a natural Apex. He has all kinds of instincts and drives the rest of us don’t always understand. He means well, he does. He’s just a little intense. We’re here to help you.” 

“I want to go home.” Stiles repeats weakly, feeling his strength begin to ebb away again. “Can you take me home?”

“Actually,” Boyd sighs. “It wouldn’t be safe for you to leave here.”

Stiles feels like he wants to cry. “You want to keep me here too.” His breath is coming fast again but he no longer has the energy to hold himself up.

“No,” Boyd says quickly. “No, I don’t want to keep you anywhere. You’re not a prisoner here. And this has nothing to do with Derek. But there are reasons you shouldn’t go back to your life right now.”

“What reasons?” Stiles asks. 

“We think Bordella might have targeted you specifically.” Boyd sighs. “We’re not sure why exactly, but you need to lie low right now. It isn’t safe out on the streets for you. We don’t know where Bordella is or if he’s working with others-“

“Bordella is dead.” Derek interjects, frowning. “I killed him.”

Boyd stares at Derek. “Derek- Bordella left the scene. He’s still alive somewhere.”

“No.” Stiles shakes his head in horror. “Scythe killed him. I saw him- I saw him do it.” 

“I turned his legs into pulp.” Derek says. “I had his blood all over me.” 

“Did either of you actually see him die?” Boyd asks. He turns to Derek. “Did you check to see if he was really dead?”

“No.” Derek admits, his massive hands curling into fists. “I needed to take care of Stiles. I left him to the dogs.”

“He got away, Derek.” Boyd says. “He’s still out there and Laura thinks he’s hunting for Stiles.”

A low terrible growl reverberates from Derek’s throat and the alpha turns abruptly, throwing over a table in one violent swoop.

“I will kill him.” Derek growls, shaking with rage. “I will hang his corpse from the gate of HQ and leave his head in the center of Nero City. He will never touch my omega. I will find him and he will die!” 

Stiles stares at Scythe with his mouth hanging open. “Oh my god.” He turns to Boyd. “I can’t stay here. He’s crazy.”

Derek whirls around and stalks over Stiles’ bed, staring down at the omega. “You’re not going anywhere. It isn’t safe.” 

“It’s not safe here either.” Stiles says. “No offense. I’m really grateful you got me away from Bordella, but you’re a complete maniac.” 

“I will protect you.” Derek answers, huffing. “You don’t have to worry. You’re safe here in our den. You need to stay here where I can keep you safe.” 

Stiles looks up at Boyd. “Do I have to stay here? I don’t want to stay with him.”

Boyd sighs, looking like he’s aged ten years since Stiles woke up. “Look,” He starts. “Nobody wants to keep you here if you don’t want to be here. Let me be clear about that. But we can’t protect you if you go out on the streets. Listen-“ Boyd says, “I think we need to meet with the other Apex alphas. Laura is Derek’s older sister. The rest of us are synthetics- we’re all normal, I promise. Laura will know what to do about this. If you want I’ll take you to the police station.” Derek growls lowly and stalks closer to Stiles. “They might be able to keep you there. But really- HQ is the safest place for you right now. Nobody is going to try to force you to mate with Derek or do anything crazy, but he is the only one who has a clear scent on Bordella and he’s got advanced medical training. I’m serious when I tell you- you’re safest with him.” 

Stiles stares up at Boyd, his eyes dull and exhausted. “He really did turn Bordella’s legs to pulp.” He says lowly, wincing at the memory. “He used the sledge hammer Bordella used on me.” 

“I know he did.” Boyd says gravely. “And I’m sorry you had to see that. But Derek isn’t dangerous- not to you. If you don’t want him around, send him out to the garage. Just- try and get some rest here for a few hours. I’ll be back with the rest of the Apex tonight and we’ll talk, okay?”

Stiles closes his eyes for a second, remembering Bordella’s breath on his neck, the monster’s eyes on his naked body. “Did Bordella really kill three other omegas?” Stiles asks quietly opening his eyes.

“Those are the ones we found.” Boyd says.

“And if I leave he might find me again?” Stiles asks. 

“It’s a possibility.” Boyd says gently. “But we’re going to do everything we can to make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone else.” 

Stiles shudders, pulling the blankets up around his neck. “I’ll stay until I can talk with the other Apex.” He finally agrees, feeling his body growing wearier after all the excitement. “But I don’t want to be around him.” He eyes Derek. 

“You won’t even notice he’s here.” Boyd says. “Just try to sleep for a while. We’ll be back soon.” He turns to leave. “Don’t bug him, Derek.” He says to the other Apex alpha on his way out. “For the love of God, just let him rest.” 

Derek watches the other man go somewhat awkwardly for a moment before fixing Stiles with his metallic stare again. Stiles sighs resigned to the weirdness. There is a long moment of silence and Stiles wonders if this weirdass is going to stand there and stare at him creepily all night. 

“You’re not going to leave?” Derek finally asks, his voice low.

Stiles sighs, frustrated. “You heard him. He said Bordella might find me if I go back on the streets.” 

Another pause and then, “I told you I won’t let him hurt you.” Derek frowns. “Don’t you believe me?” 

“I don’t know.” Stiles lays back, too exhausted to start another fight. “I don’t know you.” Stiles closes his eyes, too tired to keep them open.

He thinks Derek may have left but then he hears. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

“I don’t know you.” Stiles murmurs again, feeling himself begin to drift off. 

The last thing he hears before the darkness takes over is, “Don’t leave me, Stiles.”


	17. Scythe: Meet and Repeat

It is 7 pm and the world is suddenly overpopulated. In curious, softly tittering groups of two and three the synthetic Apex flied into Derek’s den until the whole place reeks of iced coffee and lip balm and baby food. Starkicker is standing in the center of the room, a basket in her long arms. Sprite is perched on his work table chair, Scott sitting at her feet, his face curiously cocked towards the bed. Boyd is leaning with his back against the wall, giving the omega reassuring smiles. Cora is standing slightly behind Derek, smirking at him like she’s silently mocking her older brother. The omega sits up in bed, the covers carefully gathered around his thin shoulders. He’s edged away from Derek, his face alert and cautious, silently taking in the sight and the smell of all the Apex gathered together in one room. Well, almost all the Apex- Gemini rushes in, tapping at something urgently on her wrist communicator, an enormous purse swung over one arm and a hamper in the other. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” She says quickly, finishing a text. “I got in traffic- Stiles?!” Lydia looks up with a squeal and bolts over to the bed. Scythe physically restrains himself from stepping in front of he petite team mate and growling. “What are you doing here?” Gemini asks. 

“What are you doing here?” Stiles counters, his face breaking into a grin. “Wait- are you?”

“You know him?” Laura voices Derek’s thoughts, one eyebrow raised.

“Lydia and her dad used to come into the diner I work in for breakfast all the time.” Stiles says. He looks at Lydia in surprise. “You’re one of them?” He asks. “You’re an Apex alpha?”

Lydia laughs lightly, getting too close to the omega for Derek’s comfort. “It’s not exactly something I advertise when I’m off-duty.” She smiles. “My dad is a Hale Industries’ engineer. He and my mom got involved in the project before I was born.” 

“You seem so normal.” Stiles says. “You never... you never smelled like anything weird.”

Lydia smiles down at the omega. “I was eating breakfast with my dad, Stiles. I wasn’t working. I always put on a lot of scent blockers when I’m not on duty.” 

“They work on you?” Stiles asks looking confused.

“I’m a synthetic Apex.” Lydia says. “They work on us. Hey, oh my God-“ Her eyes grow large. “You’re hurt!” 

“Ya want to maybe introduce the rest of us, Cupcake?” Cora calls out sardonically. 

“Oh!” Lydia jumps again, looking around sheepishly. “Stiles, these are my litter mates- the other Apex alphas. Sprite, Chemical, Starsinger, Starkicker- and you already met Oblivion. And Scythe... I guess.” She looks over at Derek for the first time, her eyes wide. 

Derek stares back, stone faced. The knuckles of the hand he’s using to grip the bedframe tightly are white. 

“Are you okay?” She asks, ignoring Derek and sitting on the bed next to the omega. “I heard you fell into a megalo-drop. How do you feel?” 

“I... I-“ Stiles looks around the room, looking overwhelmed. “I don’t know.” 

“It’s alright, Stiles.” Laura says calmly, stepping forwards. She thrusts the hamper into Derek’s hands. “I know you’re probably confused, but you’re safe here.” 

“Oblivion said Bordella is still alive.” Stiles swallows, looking to Gemini. “How is that possible? I saw... I saw him...” Stiles’ voice comes to a sputtering stop. “I don’t know what I saw...” The omega whispers. 

Derek leans closer to his omega wishing everyone would just leave them in peace. 

“I destroyed him.” Derek grates out between clenched teeth. “He will never touch you again. If that monster is alive, he’ll never set eyes on you again.”

“Nobody is denying that you completely mutilated him, Derek.” Cora says. “I saw the house. I smelled it too.” She makes a face. “But he did make it out of there. He clearly wasn’t acting alone.” 

“Who would help a monster like that?” Sprite asks, looking troubled. 

“There are plenty of sadists out there who don’t see omegas as anything but objects for their own twisted amusement.” Starkicker looks grim. “As much as we all would like to believe this is an isolated person, we all have lived in this city too long to be naive about the possibilities.” 

“We are in communication with the police.” Oblivion says. “They are aware of the situation.” 

“I’ve seen dogs who are better at fighting crime than the police.” Cora sniffs. 

“The important thing is,” Laura overides the others’ voices loudly. “Stiles is safe here.” She turns to the omega. “We’re not going to let anything happen to you.” 

“So what? I should just sit tight in your basement until you hunt this guy down?” Stiles asks Lydia. “I can’t do that. That’s crazy! I have a life!” 

“We still don’t know Bordella’s motives.” Laura says evenly. “I can’t risk having you out on the streets right now. It’s too dangerous.” 

“You sound just like him!” Stiles glares at her from the bed, violently indicating towards Derek. “He’s crazy! I can’t stay here.” 

“Stiles calm down.” Lydia say firmly. “There’s nothing to panic over right now. You’re fine.” 

“Do you know him?” Stiles jerks his head towards Derek. Derek frowns. 

“I grew up with him.” Lydia says. 

“Do you know what he said to me?” Stiles asks, his eyes wide. 

“Uh- I got the cliff notes.” Lydia says, wincing. She looks up at Derek, “What did you do this time?”

“I did what I had to.” Derek growls. “I took care of him. You were in a megalo-drop. You needed me.”

“I needed a doctor.” Stiles says.

“You needed your mate.” Derek says factually. “I am your mate. I know it.” He looks at Lydia. “I know it.” He repeats to her.

“Oh jeez.” Lydia mutters.

“You are out of the drop.” Derek tells Stiles. “It is because you’ve been here, safe, with me. You knew it was safe because you are my mate.” 

Oblivion sighs audibly. 

“Derek... wow.” Scott looks torn between admiration and horror. 

“He keeps repeating that!” Stiles says to Gemini. 

“Only because you refuse to listen.” Derek says to Stiles. “I don’t understand why you refuse to accept the truth.” 

“Is he always this crazy?” Stiles asks Lydia. “How is he even in charge of anything?! Why is he allowed to carry a gun?”

“Cool your jets, Stiles.” Lydia says. “Derek isn’t crazy. He’s just socially challenged, or something. I guess all the natural Apex were like this.”

“This can’t be a real thing.” Stiles says, exasperated. 

“It’s very real.” Laura says softly. “I always knew this day would come. I didn’t know when or how, but I grew up knowing one day Derek would find an omega and know. He did too. It’s in all the literature.” 

“Why me?” Stiles look stricken. 

“Why anyone?” Laura shrugs. “You’re compatible. Who can say why?” 

“I don’t want this!” Stiles shouts from the bed. Derek moves closer instinctively. 

“You don’t know that.” He says. 

“Yes- I promise you I do!” Stiles shouts back. 

“Stiles calm down.” Lydia says. “You’re too weak for this shit. All of you just shut up!” She glares around the room fiercely. “Derek- your dick is not a priority right now. The important thing is keeping Stiles safe and getting him well.” She looks at Stiles. “You need to stay here. I know you don’t like it, I know Derek freaks you out, but I live here too- we all do. You need to stay off the streets and you’re too sick right now to work anyways. You need to be practical right now, Stiles. You need to do what’s best for your health. Nobody is going to force you into anything you don’t want to do. We’ll all just drop the mate thing for now and focus on Bordella. All of us.” She looks pointedly at Derek. 

Stiles lays back, exhausted. “I don’t know...” 

Lydia sighs. “I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

“They will pay.” Derek speaks up, gruff and dark. “Bordella and whomever has alined themselves with him will pay. I will hunt them down until the streets of Nero run with their blood.” 

“He’s crazy.” Stiles says to Lydia. “I don’t want to stay with him.” 

“Derek has kept you safe.” Lydia says. “Give him the benefit of doubt, okay? I’ll come down to visit you as much as I can. Just stay here for a little while longer. It won’t take us long to hunt Bordella down- I promise. Just stay here and rest.” 

“I guess I don’t have much of a choice.” Stiles sighs.


	18. Stiles: The Way He Looks at Me

Laura Hale, Derek’s sleek, athletic older sister is the last to leave. She is taller and older than the other female Apex alphas, with eyes like blue ice. She is wearing black lamb’s leather pants and a tailored bullet-proof vest. Both are embroidered with Hale Industries insignias. The dark clothing matches the beautiful combat apparel Stiles has seen Derek wearing. Everything here is sleek and luxurious- as if made by aliens. Starkicker pointedly watches the others leave before she turns to her brother, thrusting the hampers she and Lydia brought into the Alpha’s arms. 

“Go put these away, Derek.” She orders. “We brought omega soap and shampoo and conditioner. As well as some other things we thought Stiles would need.” Derek stares at her for a moment. “Shoo.” She says and he turns to go down a hall. 

Laura turns back to Stiles on the bed, her fine boots clicking slightly on the floor of the cavern. She sits down next to him. Stiles looks up at her, taking in her sharp features and her creamy skin, so unlike the swarthy scowl of her brother. 

“Do not look so worried, Stiles.” She says. “It is not so bad at HQ, is it? Your friend Lydia is our sister. She will come visit you often. If there is anything you need- anything you want, you need only ask.” 

“The guy who crushed my legs and held me prisoner is still out there and you said he’s looking for me.” Stiles scowls. “So excuse me if I’m not exactly overjoyed right now.”

“Cyril Bordella is a dead man walking.” Laura says cooly. Unlike her brother, she is factual in this, neither angry nor filled with bloodlust. “Scythe is nothing if not... efficient.” 

“That our government has essentially sent your brother to torture someone to death- even Bordella, doesn’t really make me feel better.” Stiles looks down at his lap. “Bordella deserves to be punished. He needs to be locked up so he can’t hurt anyone else, but I don’t want anyone tortured.” Stiles shudders. “I saw what Derek did the last time. I can’t even imagine what he’ll do now.” Stiles looks up at Laura, his eyes filled with darkness. “How can he do stuff like that? How can he live with himself? Doesn’t he feel anything?” 

“My brother feels things.” Laura says softly. “He feels things more strongly than most people actually. We were brought up to fight crime, Stiles. It has been our entire lives. They put pressure on Derek in particular, I think. My grandfather, the owner of Hale Industries, is convinced Derek will save this city. It’s a large burden for someone to be born with. My brother knows what’s right and he isn’t willing to compromise. I don’t think he knows how.” 

“Life isn’t black and white.” Stiles furrows his brow. “What Bordella did to me was terrible- yeah. And what he did to the other omegas was worse. But I want him put away. What Derek did to him was just as monestrous.”

“An eye for an eye.” Laura says. “All Derek did was balance the scales of justice. Derek believes those who do not know empathy must be taught what it is to feel the pain they inflict upon others. It is equilibrium.” 

“It is barbaric.” Stiles shudders.

“What is barbaric is the amount murderers and sadists who have taken over this city. Who every night run around an hurt innocent people for their own gain without answering to what is right.” Laura frowns. “Without Derek, you would have been one of their victims. Just another dead omega.” 

“I know that.” Stiles says darkly. “Don’t you think I know that? And I’m grateful, I am. But that doesn’t take away what I saw. What Derek is.” 

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.” Laura says. “We are the protectors of not just our families or the company, but of many people who can’t protect themselves. Scythe is a warning. He is a deterrent to the great evil in Nero. I don’t think this city would still stand without him.” 

“You really believe that?” Stiles says quietly. 

“I’m the granddaughter of the Hale line. Nero and its people are my life. I know it.” Laura says.

“You think I’m his mate.” Stiles says, looking Laura square in the eyes.

“I have no reason to not believe my brother.” Laura says plainly. “Although I regret the way you feel about the matter.” 

“You want me to be his mate.” Stiles says, looking at her hard. 

“I believe it is vital my brother have children.” Laura nods. “We all do. Every Hale scientist believes that Derek’s genetics are the best shot we have to turn this city around. Derek is our inspiration, he’s lead us and challenged us and saved so many people. Yes, I do hope you consider this.” 

“I don’t... I don’t think I can ever see him... like that.” Stiles says quietly. “I don’t know. What if I can’t do it? I understand what you do, what you do for the city. I just don’t know if...”

“Nothing needs to be decided now.” Laura says. “You’re still weak and the last thing you need is to worry about this. I only ask that you don’t completely close yourself to the idea.” Laura reaches out and touches Stiles’ hand. “He’s more than my brother, Stiles. But he is also a good man. He could make you happy.” 

“I can’t see that.” Stiles says. 

“Just rest.” Laura says. “And Stiles- not everyone at Hale Industries is trust worthy. We are a family here and like every family we have our problems. The Apex will protect you will our last breath but be wary of those outside our ranks. Derek has many enemies.” Laura stands up and walks out of the room. 

Stiles slumps back on the bed, exhausted from the constant pain in his legs and overwhelmed. He’s a modern omega living in a cosmopolitan, albeit nightmarish city. He’s had boyfriends through the years, alphas he’s met though friends or at the diner. None of them had been serious and they’d never discussed mating. Stiles hadn’t thought much about being mated in general, actually. He’d been so focused on his dad’s illness, on keeping his head above water. Honestly, Stiles is an omega with no real family connections or anything special to hold him apart from the others. He’s not particularly good-looking, graceful, charming, or successful and he has the tendency to run his mouth like a freight train. He’d never really considered himself a likely object of passion. Paying his dad’s medical bills and his rent were more of a priority than trying to attract a mate. And now, even without him looking there was Derek. Derek who hadn’t wanted to date Stiles- he just wanted to go ahead and do the whole nine yards immediately. Even if he hadn’t seen the Apex alpha pound someone into human jam, he’d think the guy was insane. He unnerves Stiles in a way he’s never known. He doesn’t understand it. He’s not sure he likes it. It’s new and uncomfortable. 

Scythe is back in the room now, standing at the end of Stiles’ bed with that endless stare again. 

“Stop looking at me like that!” Stiles snaps, looking down. He knows he’s physically nothing special and he’s unused to scrutiny. 

“How am I looking at you?” Scythe asks, his voice deep and emotionless. 

Stiles glances up at the alpha again, quickly, almost shy. Derek is staring at him like he’d never get tired of looking, like Stiles holds some secret or some story inside of him, and the alpha is captivated. 

“Don’t look at me at all.” Stiles grumbles, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

“I am only wondering how you’re feeling.” Derek says. 

“You could just ask me.” Stiles makes a face.

“You don’t always answer me.” Derek says. “You try to minimize your pain. You should just be honest with me. If you are hurting in some way I want to know.” 

“You fuss too much.” Stiles mutters crossly, a little flustered. “I’m fine.” 

“I have to take care of you.” Derek says. “And since you’re too stubborn to talk to me, I have to observe you to know how to do that.” 

“It’s not your job.” Stiles glares at him. “I’m a grown-ass man. I can take care of myself. Stop bugging me.” 

Derek is silent for a moment. “You are tired.” He says. “It’s late. They stayed too long.” 

“There was a lot to talk about.” Stiles says. “But yeah- I do want to sleep now, I think.” 

“Are you warm enough?” Derek asks, taking a hesitant step forwards.

“I’m fine.” Stiles says quickly. “I’m just tired.”

“Very well.” Derek says and then stops for a moment, hesitating. “I love you.” He says.

“What?!” Stiles spits, he can’t help it. He stares at Derek with wide eyes. 

“I love you.” Derek repeats plainly, looking back at him unabashedly. 

“Why would you say that?” Stiles stares at the alpha, at a complete loss.

“I read omegas like hearing reminders of their mates’ feelings towards them.” Derek says. “I read they need to be assured of this repeatedly.” 

“You don’t know what that mean!” Stiles growls. 

“Yes. I do.” Derek says evenly.

“If you had any conception of what saying, I love you, really meant, you wouldn’t be saying it now- to me.” Stiles shakes his head, feeling off balance. 

“I know you’re meant to be with me. I know I want to care for you and raise a family with you. I know I want to spend my life with you.” Derek states. “What else is love?” 

Stiles stares at the alpha to a moment. “I’m going to bed.” He finally says. “Go away.” He rolls over and shuts his eyes, playing at being asleep until he hears the alpha walk away.


	19. Scythe: Frost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FZCeRGnzJXk

The hours since Stiles had awaken from the megalo-drop turn into a day and that day into a week. Derek's den sees more activity in than it has since he moved to the basements. Stiles has easily adapted into their nocturnal lifestyle. The omega still needs a lot of sleep and Derek is hyper-vigilant about that, but he does most of his sleeping during the daylight hours. Derek notes with only slight twinges of resentment that the omega has likely taken to this schedule not because of Derek, but because of Lydia. Gemini comes down (uninvited,) every evening at six with a basket of fresh baked goods from the kitchens upstairs and a pot of strong black tea. She always edges Derek out into the front garage cavern, where he does crunches and lifts weights, but he keeps the door open so he can see Stiles as he walks past. Gemini has since adapted a (thankfully,) more respectful attitude towards Derek's bed and now refrains from sitting on it. She usually pulls up a chair next to where the omega is sitting up in bed and Derek hears them laughing or talking in low voices through the open door. Sometimes they watch movies together before Derek and Gemini have to leave for patrol and sometimes Lydia brings Oblivion Jr. or Avery's little sister, a 14 month-old omega Boyd and his mate, Erica, named, Layla down with her. Both children took to Stiles almost immediately and Derek figures they must find Stiles' scent at pleasant as he does. He can't help but haunt the doorway and watch with a sort of warm exhilaration whenever Boyd's kids are visiting. He can't look away as he watches the way Avery climbs all over Stiles, tugging on the omega's hair happily, and showing him his action figures.

"I'm going to be THIS when I grow up!" Oblivion Jr. proudly thrust as plastic exaggeratedly muscled version of Boyd into Stiles' face "A hero- like Dad!"

Stiles smiles indulgently at the small child. He's cradling Avery's wiggling sister in his long, lanky arms. The baby giggles and smiles up at him, sticking one pudgy, clumsy hand out to touch Stiles' face. 

"Is Layla going to be a hero too?" Stiles asks, smiling down at Avery's little sister.

Oblivion Jr. looks at Stiles in confusion. "Layla's an omega." The three year-old says. "She's going to be a mommy."

Stiles sends a look at Lydia, who shrugs. "What does your mommy do, Avery?" He asks.

"Mommy talks on the phone." Oblivion Jr. doesn't look too bothered with the particulars of his mother's job description.

"Erica organizes our household staff upstairs." Lydia supplies. "She hires and oversees all the people who support the Apex HQ. The people who do our laundry and bring us groceries and keep up the place." She looks around Derek's den. "Except Derek's stuff. Derek won't let anyone down here. He does his own cooking and laundry... I think."

"Ugh. I hope he doesn't expect me to do it." Stiles looks wary.

That stings a little. Derek's omega is far too fragile right now to be doing any kind of work- including helping Lydia look after Boyd's cubs. And anyways, if Stiles finds the idea of laundry or washing dishes so abhorrent, Derek will happily do both for the rest of their lives. Derek would buy Stiles new clothes and dishes everyday and just let him throw the soiled ones out if that's what the omega wanted. What is more troubling, the thing that is really starting to nag at the back of Derek’s mind is that it has become increasingly evident, as Stiles has slowly been regaining his strength that Stiles is not happy here. Perhaps, even worse- Stiles is not happy with him. Save for the short hours that Gemini visits Stiles, the omega remains silent, cautious. In direct contrast to how Stiles was when he was in the megalo-drop, the omega now pointedly ignores Derek. It seems to the alpha that Stiles makes a big show of not looking at him or speaking to him. He reproachfully allows Derek to help him wash, or care for his injuries, but Stiles holds his body woodenly, as if he doesn’t wish to relax into Derek’s touch. Derek has long since been banish from his own bed, and he spends the short hours he does sleep on a cot in the garage. Mostly, Derek is restless and watchful. His omega obviously needs something from him or Stiles wouldn’t be so tense, so standoffish. Derek has no idea what that is and he desperately wishes Stiles would tell him. Sometimes Derek stands in their den silently, preparing food or carefully checking the omega’s injuries. He’ll look up into his omega’s beautiful fawn eyes and want to ask what he can do to make him happy. He wants to be closer to that perfect scent. In the end all he can do is watch his mate glare and him and listen to Stiles order him away. 

Somewhere around the second week Derek begins to succumb to the creeping cold that’s been lingering on the edges of his mind, seemingly mocking him with an idea that is both repellant and nauseating. Stiles doesn’t want Derek. Derek is somehow unworthy of his mate and his mate is punishing him by holding himself away from Derek. There is some need Derek is not fulfilling, something Stiles desires, Stiles needs that he isn’t getting from Derek, and as a result Derek’s mate won’t let him claim him. Scythe reacts to this inkling badly. Derek comes back to the den every night splattered with blood and covered in the scratches of the dying. He carefully showers off all evidence of the carnage in the garage, not wanting to upset the omega. 

Derek walks into their den one morning, shirtless, his hair still damp from the shower. He stops short. The omega is screaming, fighting against nothing, his arms flailing, his whole torso raised up against the blankets on their bed. A night-terror. Derek had though they were getting better. Tears are streaming down Stiles’ eyes as the omega cries out in wordless wails. Derek doesn’t even think. He rushes over climbs into the bed, carefully cradling the omega to his chest, soothing his large hands down Stiles back.

“I’m here, I’m here.” Derek keeps repeating, unable to do anything more. 

To Derek’s immense relief the omega blinks his beautiful eyes open and looks up at him. Derek braces himself for the inevitable rejection, for the disdain in his omega’s eyes, but to his surprise all Stiles does is dissolve into tears and collapse against his chest. Derek locks his arms around Stiles tightly and runs his large fingers through Stiles’ soft hair. 

“Derek...” Stiles chokes out. “Derek...”

“I am here.” Derek says, laying his cheek against Stiles head. “You’re safe.” 

“I’m not.” Stiles says softly, his voice wrecked. Derek’s arms press the omega tighter to his chest. “I’m not...”

“You are.” Derek insists. “Nobody will every hurt you here. I will protect you. I have protected you.” To Derek’s relief the omega is beginning to still now, his hot, damp face pressed to Derek’s bare skin. Derek savors the feeling of his omega’s body against his own, Stiles’ weight on him. 

“You’re only protecting me because you think I’m your mate.” Stiles says flatly. “I’m not.”

Derek sighs, feeling that painful hollow cold in his chest, even with the warmth of the omega pressed against him. “You need to rest.” He is all he says. 

Stiles shifts his face slightly and looks up at Derek. “I won’t mate with you. You know that, right?”

Derek swallows back the cold. He looks down at his omega. “So you’ve said.” 

“I mean it.” Stiles says seriously, his eyes still damp. “I don’t want this.” 

“I know.” Derek says, running his fingers in what he hopes is a soothing manner down Stiles’ back. 

“And yet you still protect me?” Stiles asks. “You still let me live here with all of you? Why? Is it because you think I’ll change my mind?” 

Derek is quiet for a moment. “I would be lying if I said I don’t hope you’ll reconsider. But that is not why the Apex have you here and that’s not why I take care of you. I would protect you even if you were bound to another.” 

Stiles looks confused. “Why?” He asks. 

“Because I need to.” Derek says simply, solemn in the dim light of his den. “I’m a natural Apex. There are things in me that I have to do that feel as urgent and vital as breathing and eating. Caring for you is like that for me. Even if you never want me to claim you, I will always keep you safe. I will always give you whatever you need.” 

“I thought you just couldn’t understand that I don’t want this.” Stiles says quietly, resting his head on Derek’s chest.

“I understand more than people think I do.” Derek says. “I understand that I do not make you happy.” He looks down at Stiles. “But you must understand that I won’t stop protecting you or hunting Foul simply because you do not wish for me to claim you. I will always give you what you need.” Derek repeats. It is a promise in the darkness. “You need only ask. I won’t ask for anything in return.” 

“I don’t understand.” Stiles says, his voice soft and genuinely confused. 

“You are my mate.” Derek says. “I only want you to be okay. I would do anything for you.”

“I don’t understand you.” Stiles says. 

“You don’t have to understand.” Derek says. “Just trust me.” 

Derek feels the new sensation of Stiles’ hands tentatively trailing down his bare skin. He takes a deep breath, holding it in as the omega explores his firm chest and warm skin, fingers grazing his muscles, down his ribs, brushing over his nipples. His mate’s touch is exquisite and it is only by holding his breath that he keeps himself from moaning and leaning into the touch. 

“You’re so big.” Stiles murmurs, his breath brushing Derek’s skin. “How are you even human?”

“I’m built for the streets.” Derek says. “Built to protect you.”

“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that.” Stiles murmurs, his torturous fingertips working their way down Derek’s bare arms. 

Derek closes his eyes. His omega is beautiful and his touch is intoxicating. Derek wants nothing more than to explore Stiles’ body, to show him how good it could be with him. To hear the omega whine under his touch, to open him up and sate him in a way Derek knows only he can. 

“It is only the truth.” Derek says, breathing Stiles’ delicious autumn scent in. 

“I don’t like it when you talk like that.” Stiles says, his hands trailing lower and lower down Derek’s bare chest. “Jesus.” He mutters. “It’s like you’re carved out of stone.” 

“Stiles...” Derek grates out, wanting to tell the omega to stop and desperately wanting more at the same time. 

“Mmm.” Stiles sighs. The omega quits his exploration to Derek’s relief and disappointment and settles sleepily into Derek’s arms again. He yawns against his chest. “Will you stay?” The omega asks so quietly, Derek almost can’t hear him. 

“Sleep.” Derek says, nuzzling Stiles head. “I’ll be here.”


	20. Stiles: The Night Calls

Stiles wakes reluctantly, his body alert and aware well before his mind. His eyes remain closed and his conciousness hazy, even as his other senses come alive. For the first time in many long weeks Stiles' body feels... good. The pain is a distant ache and he feels warm and lithe as he nuzzles his face into the delicious smell encasing his dozing form. He is surrounded by a dense, musky scent, tantalizing and dark- somehow whispering of safety and something more... something deeper. Stiles's body is flushed and humming with a peculiar kind of low ache, curling through his groin and skidding around his lower back, up through his spine. It's is a singular heavy slow burn and he realizes he's grown hard sometime while sleeping. It feels like it's been ages since Stiles has thought of sex at all and not just the violence of what may have happened to him if Scythe hadn't come, but his body is insistent. He moans softly into the warm velvet surface against his face, feeling it move and shudder slightly under his warm, open lips. His chest is pressed against something solid and hot, his sensitive skin soaking in the sensation of being touched. He's been moved sometime during sleep. Stiles is straddling something, his injured ankles pulled carefully on either side, and his pulsing groin, hot and damp, is pressed snuggly against something feels enormous and deliciously hard. The needful ache in Stiles' cock intensifies as he cants his hips forwards against the solid heat, searching out more of that delicious tension. He moans as the friction of his linen pants furthur excites him, spuring him to grind down harder, rubbing his weeping cock against the hardness in front of him.

Stiles' velvet pillow growls, deep and throaty, the primal sound of an animal. Stiles' eyes fly open and he finds himself looking up at the flushed face of Derek. The alpha's eyes are dark pools, hungrily devouring the sight of him, taking in the way Stiles' body is so intimately pressed up against his own larger form. Derek's lips are parting, and the alpha's chest is heaving roughly as if he is fighting for control.

"Derek..." Stiles breathes out shakily, a bit startled and unsure. He has never felt more aroused in his life. His entire body is screaming and singing, every nerve unusually sensitive and receptive to the alpha's. His nipples are hard and begging him to rub himself against Derek, for more friction, more sensation, more anything.

"Stiles," Derek's voice is raw, almost destroyed, more of an animal noise than human speech. The alpha shakes his head as if trying to clear it. "Are you okay?"

"I..." Stiles blinks back at the alpha, not really hearing him. "You smell..." He flushes a little, but noses his face closer to where Derek's increadible scent is pulsing at him from under the alpha's strong neck. "So good..." He murmurs agaisnt the flushed skin.

Derek's whole body shudders again and the alpha shifts under him slightly, his breath ragged. Stiles can't help himself. He grinds his hips forwards against Derek's obvious errection again, feeling the tingling burn spark up his body, the coiling heat building. The feeling is equisite- mind numbing. It leaves him shaking and desperately hungry for more. Derek lets out an exhale in a burst of hot breath against his neck. The smell actually makes Stiles salivate. Stiles has had sex before, even been with other alphas, but he's never quite lost himself the way he is dangerously close to doing now. Derek growls again, this time directly in Stiles' ear, the alpha's hot breath tickling and teasing Stiles' hypersensitive skin. Stiles shivers and bucks forwards again, rubbing hard against the alpha's cock. Derek's growl grow lower, richer, darker.

"You have no idea how that feels." Derek rasps in his ear, licking up behind it and down Stiles' sensitive neck. "How you smell right now..."

"Derek..." Stiles pants, his whole body trembles at the feeling of Derek's mouth licking his sensitive omega neck. "We should... we should stop."

"Why?" Derek rumbles into his ear. "Does this hurt?"

"N-no." Stiles breathes, even as he is rubbing himself against the alpha's large cock, the heat pooling and boiling in his stomach. "It... we..."

"Shhh..." Derek soothes into his ear, catching Stiles' earlobe gently in his teeth and nipping at it playfully. "It's okay..." The alpha shifts and begins griding back on to Stiles, his huge hands running up and down Stiles' back comfortingly. "Just let me make you feel good." He whispers into Stiles' ear.

"God..." Stiles breathes, into Derek's neck, thrilling sensations running up and down his entire body. How does this feel so good? He is so hard and Derek's erection feels so amazingly hot and big, rubbing against his own. It's like his body has been half asleep with every other sexual partner he's had up until now. It is a whole new experience and all he can do is hold close to Derek and move, blindly continueing to seek out the intense feelings coursing through his body. All he wants is more- more of the scent, more of Derek's large hands on his acheing skin, more of the feeling of pulsing through his body, centering in his groin. Stiles is starved for itl. He thrusts forwards, hot and damp against Derek's massive, solid body even though some warning part of his mind is telling him he should stop. "I shouldn't..."

Derek looks down into Stiles' eyes and looking into the alpha's painfully aroused face only intesifies the pleasures Stiles feel coming over him in hot waves.

"Hey," Derek says. "It's okay. I won't ask anything from you. Just let me... I only want you to feel good. It's okay."

Derek's enormous hands have somehow snaked their way around Stiles' hips, stabilizing the omega, kneeding the sore muscles there in deep palpatations. The alpha's broad hands make Stiles feel anchored, calming him and ignighting him at the same time. He looks into Derek's face and immediately wants to look away. It's too much- the alpha's face is bare of pretense, all raw need and hunger. It is overwhelming. All Stiles can do is nod once, even as he seeks some sort of rhythm against the alpha's hard body, turning his face decidedly away. Derek lets out another low growl which reverberates through his broad chest and into Stiles' sensitive body. The alpha is yanking Stiles' shirt over his head hungrily and all of a sudden their bare chests are together, skin against skin. Stiles actually lets out an audbile cry of pleasure as his sensitive nipples graze against Derek's chest. His nipples, previously benign and seemingly useless have become twin peaks of sensation, sending bright flashes of pleasure right down to his cock. He cries out, stifleing the mortifying noise with a fist. The alpha's large hand is on his, prying the fist gently away from Stiles' mouth. Stiles glares down at the bed at the alpha's action, but then Derek moves up harshly against his swollen, suffering cock and Stiles is lost all over again. His eyes are clenched tightly and he's riding out the growing wave of heat, grinding against the alpha's cock in increasingly desperate movements. Stiles grunts in frustration- it's not enough and he needs more.

As if reading his mind, all of a sudden Derek's large, rough hands are jerking Stiles' linen pants down, allowing the omega's bloated cock to spring free. Stiles chokes back an embarrassing mew as he feels Derek's calloused hand running up and down the taught legnth of his erretion. The alpha shifts slightly, releasing his own errection from his pants, wrapping his hand around both stroking them.

"I got you," Derek murmurs, his voice is rough and he sounds starved of air. "Is this what you need? Hm? Is this what you wanted?"

Stiles bites his lip so hard, trying to keep the desperate little noises from escaping, he's sure he tastes blood, but christ if that doesn't feel increadible. Derek's hot, edible scent is infused in the air and on his skin and it makes Stiles feel so utterly out of his own head and depesperate for release. He gasps in small, frantic breathes, feeling the ache and burn roiling in his gut growing more and more urgent. 

"You need to cum, don't you?" Derek's voice is hot against the shell of his ear, harsh and rasping as the alpha nuzzles against the sensative collumn of Stiles' neck. He continues to stroke the two of them off with his calloused hand, the friction acheingly sweet- too good to be real. "Let me give you what you need. Come on. God- you feel so good on me. I want you to cum. Show me what to do to make you cum, Stiles..." Derek is panting in earnest now, the alpha's scent only spuring Stiles on, as he squirms and rocks desperately into the alpha. It feels so good, so unbelieveable, and hearing the alpha's raw voice in his ear, Stile feels his whole body sieze up in spasms of hot, intense pleasure as he cums all over the alpha's cock and hand, his face mashed up against Derek's shoulder.

He hears Derek's gutteral cry, and then his name like an animal sound again against his ear, "Stiles..." The alpha's large hands grip the omega's hip so tightly as Derek begins to orgasm hard against Stiles' smaller body.

Stiles' body goes limp under the strain of his climax and he finally opens his eyes, begining to come back to himself. He looks down to the sticky mess between he and Derek, at once feeling a bit foolish, a little claustrophobic. Derek's still panting, still coming down from his orgasm, and the alpha's strong hands are pressing Stiles' hips and spent cock against his bloated knot, in an instinctive drive to keep the pressure around it. Stiles immediately twists away as if stung. He jerks himself as best he can out of the alphas grasp, as far away from the threatening-looking knot as possible. With his legs still out of action, he doesn't get far.

"Stiles?" Derek's voice is still hoarse, still a little shakey as he looks down at him.

Stiles pointedly ignores looking at the alpha's face, looking at any part of Derek, actually. He leans his weight back, trying to roll over off the alpha.

"Christ." Stiles mutter, his voice cold. He suceeds in rolling away from Derek, laying with his back turned on his side. He wants a wet rag, something to clean himself up with, but he also doesn't want to talk to Derek any more. With one hand he wipes what's left of Derek off himself with the sheet determindedly. He feels the alpha's large hand on his shoulder and he shrugs it off violently, as if burned. "I'm tired." He mutters.

A moment of silence, and Stiles closes his eyes, praying Derek will think he's asleep.

And then, Derek's voice over him. "Did I hurt you?"

"No." Stiles snaps shortly. "I just want some more sleep."

Another long pause and then Stiles feels the alpha's giant body shifting behind him, rolling over. Stiles can feel Derek's breath on his neck, and knows he's mere inches away, behind him in the bed. The large hand reaches out and caresses his neck. 

Stiles flinches away. "Don't." He says and then, quieter, "You said you wouldn't ask anything of me."

There is another long silence and then Stiles feels the bed shift again as Derek's weight rolls away and the alpha gets up, the sounds of his footsteps leading out into the garage.


	21. Scythe: Necropsy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Sorry about the last chapter- smut may be my literary Achilles' heel. However, the man on man had to start earlier in this one for this fic to make sense. Thanks for reading and for commenting. I love hearing your thoughts. It really does make me write faster and pushes the writing up on my priority list. Xoxo))

Derek rolls over and walks out to the garage, leaving the door open behind him. The dull, hallow ache is back in his chest and he wonders who wounded him and when...

There is intimacy in killing. There is a sort of primal bond that is formed through taking life in the same physical, naked way there is in trying to create it. In some peculiar way the death throes of one of his passionately hated victims is not so unlike the climax of his mate. Scythe always leaves the bodies of the dead, ruined and broken and lifeless behind. How can it be that now he feels as though he’s been something disdainfully left, broken and forgotten?

When he’d woke tonight, Derek had only known one thing- one singular thought, heavy and insistent in his entire being: his mate needed him. Stiles- that confounding fragile alien part of Derek, the stranger in his bed, the conquering foreign body. The omega’s flesh had been crying out for Derek’s touch, a yearning heat Derek knew he could sate. He couldn’t figure out how to please the omega, how to make him soften to him, but Derek had known he could do this for him. The need, the drive to satisfy the omega had been urgent and relentless, had Derek verbalizing things he’d never imagined saying- had never even knew were in him. He’d wanted to sooth. Something was wanting in the omega and all Derek knew is he had to fulfill that need. There was clarity in this, clarity in what Derek could do for his mate, as small an act as it was. And for a moment, just a moment, the omega had hungered for Derek in the way Derek hungered for his mate.

Now there is only cold.

There is a deep pervading emptiness in Derek, like something left half undone. Or as if he’d done something wrong. Derek eases down on the cot, slipping his hand down around his cock. He squeezes his palm around his bloated, angry knot, feeling the cavern inside his chest deepen. He doesn’t want his own hand- it feels deeply wrong, almost sacrilegious. It’s true, Derek has had partners over the years- quick, hard fucks in motels, in alleys, but he’s never knotted anyone. He’s never wanted to, never had that irrepressible urge to join himself to another, to hold another body down and feel himself pulsing inside them, alive and connected. But now, with Stiles, with his omega, it feels wrong not to finish that way, almost as if Derek hadn’t come at all. He closes his eyes and clenches his fist tighter around his knot- until it hurts. Until he’s sure his knuckles are white and his hand begins to loose feeling.

For a moment, just a moment Derek indulges the scene that he longs for. He imagines himself deep inside his omega, Stiles convulsing around him, tight and hot, slick from pure debauched pleasure, the omega limp and sweaty and tender from his own climax. In the darkness of his mind, Derek can hear the whimpers of pleasure the omega had tried so hard to keep from him and Derek is starved for every note, every indication that Stiles had liked Derek touching him, had liked what Derek could do for him. He can feel the omega shuddering around him, wanting him there, wanting to keep his knot inside him. He can smell the omega’s delicious scent- the smell of them together, the aroma of Stiles’ wet come, still wetting their sheets, the orgasm Derek coaxed out of him.

_“More...” Stiles moans. “Please Derek... I need it. I need you...”_

Derek’s eyes snap open and for a moment he takes his hand out of his pants and stares at it hatefully. The way Stiles stares at him.

Scythe deals in a stark reality. Something akin to guilt begins to fill the empty cavern in Derek’s chest. The omega doesn’t want him- not like that. Derek had read that omegas need to be held after an intimate experience, that they need and crave the affirming affection of their mates. Stiles hadn’t wanted Derek to touch him. Not after anyways...

His mate clearly won’t let him fulfill all his needs the way Derek longs to, but it seems that some things are not entirely off the table. Derek can do this. He can give Stiles what he wants and not ask for anything more. If his mate wants him to satisfy him in this brief carnal way, Derek will take it. He’ll give the omega whatever he’ll allow him to give.

Derek closes his eyes again and waits for his knot to go down.


	22. Stiles: Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ,

Stiles lays in the alpha’s bed feeling vastly unsure of himself and- if he’s honest, a bit afraid. It was all so fucked up. Just massively fucked up. Stiles feels the omega inside him, restless and bare, whining and pulling at him, seeking soothing and attention. He feels naked and exposed, even under layers of soft blankets, with his pants still one. After he’d come down from his orgasm, after the room, and his life, and the alpha had come back into focus a rush of something indescribable had come over him- silent and powerful, without warning. He’d been afraid of what had happened, what he might have let slip, let show in the throes of ungodly pleasure. Was this intimacy- genuine and raw and unfiltered, ugly intimacy? Stiles doesn’t know. How could you have this with such a monster? You weren’t supposed to let strange alphas know these parts of you. 

And what parts exactly? That was the hard thing to grasp. It wasn’t like Stiles was a virgin. Nobody could possibly call him naive. Stiles was a single, modern omega living in the dark cosmopolitan city. He’d had sex plenty of times in-between working and trying to care for his father from afar. He’d sucked off alphas at their basement level apartments. College students he’d met at the diner. The odd mechanic or two. Had let them pound into him until they were mutually satisfied. Had even had something like affection for some of them. Stiles knew about sex. Hell, he had a healthy attitude towards it. He wasn’t some kind of prude. 

If this is all true- what he and that Apex had done wasn’t sex. Stiles can handle sex. Stiles knows exactly how his body and mind react to sex. And really, how fucked up was he? He doesn’t like the Apex. He actually thinks the man might be a little insane- and not in a good way. He’d watched the man systematically torture and attempt to kill someone after he’d rendered that person unable to defend himself. Wasn’t that some kind of evil? And this all didn’t even cover what had happened before this. How could Stiles have even wanted sex after he’d nearly been sexually assaulted and murdered by a psycho who was clearly a sexual sadist? How could his body even respond like that? And yet... he’d wanted Derek’s touch. He’d woken up burning for it, wanted the alpha to sooth him, wanted Derek’s hands all over him, stroking him, touching his most sensitive skin- he’d wanted to feel like more than himself, or perhaps something other than himself. He’d been hot and desperate for it like some omega bitch in a bad porno. His body had come alive under the alpha’s hands, his words so filthy and sweet in his ear, and he’d come harder than he’d ever come in is life. 

He was still fucked up. That was all. That was it. He’d been scared and some incredibly stupid omega part of his brain had thought that appeasing the Apex alpha who had saved him would further insure his safety- that was all. He’d been in survival mode. Stiles cringes at the thought. It’s not something to be proud of, but that has to be the explanation. He had a moment of weakness. His actions had been the result of temporary trauma-induced insanity. It was sickening. This whole thing and his whole life has turned sickening. And Stiles aches all over, feeling alone and isolated and frightened. Mostly though, he hates himself. He hates his weakness, he hates what’s happened to him- first Cyrill, and now the Apex alpha. The whole thing feels out of control, like somehow he should be digesting this better, be wiser, be stronger. This is not something that had to ruin his life. He was ruining his own life in the wake of the disaster. This is on him now. 

He wants Derek. No, that might not be true. Stiles is unsure, as he lays shivering under the covers, if he wants Derek or if he simply doesn’t want to have to sort this all out on his own. There is a great exhaustion in Stiles’ body and mind and he nuzzles the still damp fabric of the sheets, scenting out the deep musk of the alpha. The scent is etched in Stiles’ whole being now and he doubts he will ever be able to forget it. He closes his eyes and waits, wondering if Derek will come back in. Wondering why he both dreads and longs for that. 

An hour goes by. And then two. Stiles is curled to the side, shivering and strangely cold despite the blankets. His mind drifts to the alpha’s heat, his delicious warmth. Stiles squeezes his eyes shut and prays to loose consciousness. After two hours, he hears the telltale sound of Derek’s footsteps, lithe and even on the cave floor and smells him. Stiles doesn’t move. He simply keeps his body still, facing away from the room. Derek’s scent gets stronger until the alpha stops by the bed. 

“Stiles.” Derek’s voice is emotionless, even. There is no indication of what went on earlier. 

“What?” Stiles makes his voice equally nonchalant. 

“Are you hungry?” The alpha asks, and a burst of inexplicable irritation flares through Stiles, seemingly without logical reason. He’s not hungry but the alpha wouldn’t have known that for the last two hours while he’s been God knows where and Stiles has been alone in the bed shivering and confused. Stiles knows he sent the alpha away but he resents him anyways. 

Stiles’ breath comes out in a hot angry huff. “No.” Is all he’ll say.

There is a long pause and Stiles thinks he might have missed Derek walking away again. He rolls over on his back awkwardly, still feeling the twinges of pain in his feet. Derek is still there, standing by the bed motionless and blank like a machine powered off. 

“Are you in pain?” The alpha finally asks. 

“I’m fine!” Stiles snaps, glaring at the ceiling. 

Another long pause. “I thought you would sleep more.” Derek states. “I don’t know why you didn’t fall back to sleep.” 

“I don’t know.” Stiles answers, irritated. Derek is silent again and Stiles huffs out another hot, angry breath. “I’m cold.” He mutters finally. 

Derek moves away and is back again, draping a blanket over him. Stiles shrugs it off, annoyed at the blanket and at the world. 

“I don’t want another blanket.” He says, knowing how childish he sounds and not caring. 

“What do you want?” Derek’s voice isn’t angry or frustrated, it’s as neutral as the rest of his words and Stiles doesn’t know if he’s relieved by that or pissed. 

He turns and looks at the alpha for the first time, and then looks back up at the ceiling again quickly. “I don’t know.” He says, feeling miserable. Derek is silent again and Stiles doesn’t know if the alpha is waiting or has simply checked out of their conversation, this whole situation. “You know what we did doesn’t mean anything, right?” He says suddenly, his voice cold.

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to.” Derek answers. 

Stiles makes a face at the ceiling. “You know.... what we did. Just before now... when we hooked up.”

“Mm.” Derek makes a noise. 

“It didn’t happen because I wanted to... you know, mate with you or anything.” Stiles says. “I don’t. I don’t want to mate with you. I don’t think of you like that, or anything.” He finishes lamely, unsure if the alpha is getting the gist of this conversation or not and too cowardly to look and see for sure. 

“How do you think of me?” Derek asks, his voice still even, still void of emotion. 

“I don’t think about you!” Stiles snaps back immediately. 

There is another pause. “You’re getting stronger and you have needs.” The alpha notes, almost clinically. 

“What?!” This time Stiles really does turn and look at the alpha as if he’s some kind of alien. 

“You’re a young omega returning to health.” Derek states. “You have sexual needs and drives that need to be taken care of. It’s normal for you to seek out sexual satisfaction when in close proximity with a sound alpha.” 

Stiles feels himself flush. He is not even having this conversation. “I don’t need to have sex with you.” He snaps. “Or anyone. I’m not an animal and I’m not sure you’re all that sound.” 

“Your body knows differently.” Derek states. 

“No- it doesn’t.” Stiles cuts him off. 

“There is nothing to be embarrassed about.” Derek says. “It’s a sign of heath that you’re seeking out stimulation again-“

“Oh my god, shut your mouth!” Stiles groans. “Look- what just happened, right now, between us- that was a fluke. I don’t want to talk about it- I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea, okay?” 

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset.” Derek says, and God help him, Stiles believes him. “I know you don’t wish to mate with me. You’ve reiterated it several times. I don’t believe I initiated any kind of mating activity while we were together.” 

“No.” Stiles admits lowly, feeling as though he’s somehow landed on another planet. 

“Did I hurt you?” Derek asks. 

“No.” Something hurts right now, but not in the way Derek is asking about. 

“Did I touch you in the wrong way? Your body seemed very responsive to me. Did you not like it?” Derek presses further, his voice heinously logical. 

“It was... it was fine.” Stiles says. It was incredible and it felt so good. Derek’s rough fingers had played on his body like a master musician on a harp. Stiles kind of wants to die right now. 

“I satisfied you.” It’s a statement and a question. 

“It was fine.” Stiles spits, rolling his eyes back and around. 

There is another long silence and Stiles wonders if he should pretend to be asleep again. 

Then Derek speaks again. This time the alpha’s voice seems lower, darker. “I found your body very sexually compatible with mine.” The alpha pauses, just slightly. “Touching you... I enjoyed it. A lot.” 

“I don’t care.” Stiles spits out automatically, flustered. 

“Is it not normal for single people to seek out satisfaction with other who are sexually compatible with them?” Derek asks. 

“Uh. I guess.” Stiles mutters. 

“Then I don’t understand why you’re so upset.” Derek sounds genuinely perplexed. 

“I’m not upset.” Stiles says dully. 

There is another long pause. A sort of dead silence. 

“I wish you didn’t find me so distressing.” Derek finally says. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know that.” Stiles says quietly. 

“I understand how casual physical relationships work out there.” Derek continues. “I’m not ignorant of that.” 

It’s Stiles turn to be silent now. Finally he says, “You said I was your mate.” 

“I said I wouldn’t ask anything of you.” Derek says. “Do you think I am lying?” 

Stiles closes his eyes, hating himself, hating the alpha next to him, hating his life. He can’t bare to be alone right now, but he feels repulsed by the idea of any sort of intimacy or anything that could be construed as affection between him and this strange, dangerous alpha. 

“I’m cold.” He says finally. “I’m just really cold.” 

He feels Derek’s weight shift the mattress as the solid alpha sits down on the bed. He keeps his body painfully still, but when the alpha’s large, warm hand reaches out and rests on his hair, he almost leans into it. Stiles sighs, feeling his breath temper, slow. 

“You need rest.” Derek says quietly. 

“Maybe.” Stiles mutters. He closes his eyes, some part of him strangely terrified the alpha will leave again and the bed will be cold. “Maybe.”


	23. Scythe: The Nights and the Days

Sometimes Derek can believe this is enough. His omega sleeps every night in his bed. Derek’s den is infused with the precious scent of his omega. Stiles is with him every day and every night. Safe- within eyesight. He allows Derek to cook for him, help him bathe and dress, heal. They spend their days together. They mark the hours by each other’s schedules. Derek breathes the same air as his omega and Stiles smells of him and only him. This- these things, these are all right. 

Sometimes Derek despairs that this is all there will ever be. The omega can be so cold and so careful around Derek. Derek hears him laughing with Lydia and making silly faces at Boyd’s kids. This Stiles, this friendly, warm, light-hearted Stiles is not for him. He is often tired after the visitors leave the den. He lays exhausted on the bed, watching Scythe’s movements with large wary eyes. Spooked like a wild animal in a cage. Derek can’t understand what he’s done to earn the omega’s ire. Sometimes he lays on his cot pouring over every moment he’s had with the omega since they met. Hadn’t he been a good mate? He had gotten Stiles to come through the megalo-drop. He hadn’t killed Foul, but he had punished him soundly. Derek had happily and freely cared for Stiles in every way he knew how. He’d poured over the omega books, reading and re-reading until he could practically recite them by heart. What was he missing? 

The omega is healing in some ways. Making definite progress on a few important fronts. It’s been a little over two months now and he’s starting to be able to take halting steps around the room. His muscles are weak and he is shaky on his delicate limbs, almost like a new born deer. He doesn’t like Derek’s help, but Lydia dutifully takes him around the den and more often than not they end up laughing like children. Derek hates the sight of another alpha touching Stiles- even one of his own litter mates, but the look on Stiles’ face when he’d taken his first few halting steps had been enough to keep Derek quiet. It’s likely, both Boyd and Derek think, Stiles will walk with a limp for the rest of his life, but the omega will walk again, and Derek is grateful for that. 

Other wounds are not so fast to heal. Stiles sleep is deteriorating at an alarming rate. The omega does not sleep much and does not sleep well. Stiles can’t sleep unless some part of him is touching Derek. Not that the omega will admit it. Derek is still not allowed in their bed in any kind of formal way. Coming out of a megalo-drop, sleeping is still important for Stiles. He needs as much as the average house cat and isn’t getting nearly enough. The stress of it has left the omega pale and drawn- as much as he tries to hide it from Lydia and the others. Derek has come to the habit of sitting on the edge of their bed after he showers in the garage after patrol, one of his large hands resting casually on the omega’s back or neck. Stiles barely acknowledges Derek’s presence, but it is only when Derek is touching him that the omega’s breathing slows and he is able to sleep. Derek sits next to the sleeping omega for an hour before slinking out to the garage to catch a few hours of troubled rest, himself.


	24. Stiles: Desolation and Desperation

It was the arrogance that got to him. The sheer masculine, entitled, unapologetic (yet unconscious,) arrogance of the whole situation that infuriated and inflamed, frustrated and angered and roused Stiles. He could feel the pulsing injustice of it all, alive like a parasitic organism in both his mind and body. 

Growing up in Nero, Stiles was well aware it was an alpha's world, but all reminders of the inequalities that still existed between the genders within the metropolis were so well hidden within the general frame work of a modern society it was easy for Stiles, a single omega who kept mostly to himself, to ignore the muted prejudice all together, to pretend he lived on a dark and dangerous but mostly equal playing field. Foul and Scythe had shattered this illusion of gender fairness for Stiles and something in him was slowly growing harder and colder, beating with anguish in reaction to being deprived of this working delusion. What Cyril Bordella had done and what he had tried to do was certainly unconscionable- glaringly, obnoxiously wrong on all fronts. Even the biggest knothead aphlas could see that. And Stiles still hated the torturous memories of Foul, but it was the manner in which the alpha predator did what he did that truly enraged Stiles. The predator had seen Stiles, and in complete and total arrogance, in an act of pure ego, had decided that he had the right to snatch Stiles off the street and do whatever he wanted to him simply because Stiles couldn't fight back. Simply because the alpha had seen him and wanted him. It had been that simple.

It is too easy to obsess over the obvious similarities between Stiles' interactions with the deranged Foul and his recent experiences with Scythe, but Stiles knows somewhere under his skin that what has happened and what is happening between him and Derek is something infinitely more complicated- something much harder to call out and name than simple narcissism. The Apex's alpha's attitude about this whole thing has been nothing less than incorrigible, and Stiles can't even begin to wrap his head around which parts of the situation disturb him- or exactly why. From the first, Derek has seemingly and inexplicably equated Stiles as means of procreating a bunch of mini mutants- a singular idea which seems to have had such an effect on the unreadable Apex alpha it has been the sole drive behind everything Derek has done for or with Stiles since they met. And really- was wanting children such a horrible reason to pursue a potential mate? To pursue Stiles? On paper Stiles can't find anything particularly wrong with wanting to continue the Apex's mission of peace keeping into the next generation. And yet, if this is such a valid reason for Derek’s obsession, hy then does this whole thing make Stiles feel angry, make him feel cheap, or somehow less than? 

Sometimes Stiles wants to rage at Derek, the iron man with seemingly no real humanity. He wants push back against every seemingly ill-gotten act of kindness and care the Apex shows him. Stiles wants to punish Derek for what he is- for what they both are. Punish Derek for the reason Stiles is sure Derek does what he does. It feels to Stiles that there is something inherently selfish about alphas, and yet this self-seeking, self-centered attitude and general way of acting and communicating in the world is and has been historically such of a breed trait, it's generally taken for granted- that this is 'just the way alphas are.' Stiles know for certain that he, himself, has laughed off the semi-rude or obnoxious antics of alphas he's known in that past, saying, 'Boys will be boys,' or 'That’s just how guys are'- but now, now that his entire life has been disrupted by two alphas running their own agendas, he is no longer amused by alpha culture. He doesn't feel like he can be 'cool' with it all anymore for the sake of not being labeled an ‘uptight omega bitch.’ To laugh it off now feels like collusion.

The single-minded roughness of alphas- generally seen as charming in it's way. The ability to get what you want at any cost- either through force as Foul had done, or slow, insidious perseverance and artful, persuasive coercion as seems to be Derek's chosen course, is a highly valued trait in an alpha, encouraged and rewarded both formally and informally from an alpha's youth. And at what cost? Stiles has read the romance novels; he's seen the movies. Is he supposed to come around to the idea of being Derek's mate simply because Derek is trying to make the idea seem more appealing? At the end of the day he would still only be Derek’s mate because it was the alpha’s idea. The movies seemed to say time and energy was the price for an omega. How many days were you worth- how much mental anguish and emotional scheming? Have you punished your alpha long enough? How could you be sure? In the end you’re still bought and paid for. 

There are words. There are theories. There is reason and being reasonable. There is fear. There are a million thoughts running through Stiles’ head like a deadly fever, poisoning him against the world, against his own ability to shake things off. 

And then. 

Desperation. There is no telling the quality of Stiles’ thoughts given that he can’t sleep, that his spirit hums with something between paranoia and fury, that he can’t settle in his own skin. He is so alive with anxiety he feels dead. He feels in pieces. In a fight to the death with himself. Then Derek reaches out and touches him and none of it seems to matter. 

Stiles is laying on his stomach, fist clenched, his weak muscles pulsing, anger and annoying on his mind. The alpha is sitting on the edge of the bed, his dark head buried in a fistful of maps of the city. Stiles is glaring at the wall, wishing death on the whole world. Derek looks up and reaches over, his large hand open. The alpha caresses the tender ball of Stiles’ foot with the warm pad of his thumb. It’s a simple gesture, casual, natural. Stiles glares harder, nearly grinding his teeth. The alpha’s touch feels good. 

“You’re so tense.” Derek says, and he’s looking up from his maps and over at Stiles now. “You over-exerted yourself today. Lydia should know better.” 

“I like walking.” Stiles says stubbornly. “I’m fine.”

“You’re hurting.” Derek says. “You should slow down. Be patient with your injuries.” 

Stiles turns, hitting Derek with a sharp look of ice. “Are you trying to keep me here? Do you like me being an invalid? That way I can’t leave.”

Derek stares back at him, impassive. It is a long look. “You can’t leave anyways.” He finally says. “It isn’t safe out there for you. Foul is still out there.” Derek rubs Stiles’ foot again. “I’ll find him soon. He won’t be a threat to you much longer.”

“How do I know you’re even looking?” Stiles asks. “How do I know you’re not just trying to keep me here until I agree to be your mate?”

And just like that the maps are on the floor and Derek is in Stiles’ face. The giant alpha is up close, hovering over the omega and growling, his face every inch as dark and dangerous as the moment Stiles met him.

“I will kill him. I will kill the garbage who hurt you and he will pay.” Derek’s voice is low and vicious. “There is nowhere he can run and no place he can hide. I will rip him to pieces and bring you his head. He will never hurt you again. You hear me? Bordella is dead.” 

“You’re an animal.” Stiles spits back. “Get out of my face.” 

He raises an arm to strike at the alpha only to have his wrist caught in a firm grip. All a sudden it’s all too much and Stiles lets loose a hoarse cry of rage. He swats at Derek with his other fist too now, his weaker hand, punching and striking out again and again at the alpha. And Derek is there, on top of him now, his amazing delicious scent surrounding Stiles, cradling him even as Stiles hits out against the alpha’s marble chest. Soon Stiles’ wrist are both being gently yet firmly retrained against the soft bed, while the rest of his body is being stilled and gentled under Derek’s weight. Stiles now looks up, flushed and gasping for breath at the alpha’s face. The look in Derek’s eyes is indescribable. Stiles moans and it is an anguished low sort of hopeless noise. He buries his face against Derek’s neck, right where the alpha’s scent is most powerful and closes his eyes. Derek’s strong arms are around him now, stroking the tension and fury from his sore muscles, gentling his whole body. The alpha’s lips are on his brow and his body is so warm and solid and protective, Stiles finds himself feeling the oddest sort of peace in the alpha’s body, in being held, in being sheltered. He is outside himself. He feels his teeth scraping on Derek’s skin, on the velvet of the alpha’s collar bone. He feels himself taking one of the alpha’s hands and guiding in down, under his pants, moving Derek’s fingers until they’re cupping his growing erection. He moves against Derek, hard, feeling the coiling heat build slowly up his spine and loses himself in the way the alpha is touching him, the feeling of his fingers on his ready skin. It is like burning alive. It is beautiful and hateful. The alpha strokes and caresses him with the perfect pressure, responding to every movement of Stiles' body. Neither of them speak this time, but after Stiles' spend himself against Derek's hand, the alpha licks his hand clean. The orgasm is almost like morphine to Stiles and for one brief moment of intense carnal pleasure, he feels okay again. Then Stiles pushes pushes Derek's body away, refusing to look at him, and rolls over back towards the wall.


	25. Stiles: In the Dark, Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cosmic Love:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=32jgoNVi7lw

“Is he good to you?”

Gemini asks him that sometimes as if she hasn’t already thought about this and hasn’t already drawn her own conclusions. As if it’s for Stiles’ own benefit, the way a school teacher asks thought-provoking questions of her students with the lesson plan already in her hand. 

Now that Stiles’ legs have healed enough for him to hobble around without assistance it’s become clear to him that his physical well-being has at last began to take a back burner and whole ‘mate’ issue is fast becoming a sort of household obsession. Nothing about being abducted, seriously maimed, and then abducted again from the first abductor has been easy, but the physical violence feels laughably, tragically simple in comparison to what remains now that Stiles can walk. Broken bones- even ones shattered with a sledgehammer... that is all objective. There are documented medical ways to heal from even the most gruesome of physical assaults. And Stiles did not walk away from Foul free and clear, either. Boyd was quite astute; Stiles will have a limp for the rest of his life. But Stiles understands all of that. He can comprehend exactly what happened between him and abductor number 1. He can catalogue his losses. He can clearly articulate all the ways Cyril Bordella has changed him, changed his body, changed his life. 

But Derek... Scythe... whatever man or monster the alpha is, has changed Stiles too- and that change is every bit as physical and unexpected and emotional and irreversible as the effects of the omega’s encounter with the serial killer, only Stiles doesn’t know how to classify this. Stiles doesn’t know what to do. Stiles is changed. He lives in a new home with new friends and moves in new ways in a new, not yet familiar body. He even has a new scent, thanks to his... well, roommate for lack of a better term. He sometimes wonders if his heart hasn’t changed- mutated and grown into something alien and unknown as well. Sometimes Stiles wonders if he even has one any longer. 

Stiles doesn’t look at Lydia. He knows her damn Apex sense of smell outed him for whatever it is he’s turned into from the first time Derek and he had sex. For the millionth time since Stiles was abducted he feels nothing for himself but disgust and shame. He cannot look at her and he doesn’t want to look at himself. Derek thinks Stiles is his and Stiles’ body apparently agrees. His body apparently doesn’t care that Derek is a sadist or a textbook sociopath. Stiles is so weak and afraid, he’s aligned himself with the devil, himself. 

Stiles realizes Lydia is still staring at him expectantly. “He is...” Stiles takes a breath. “quiet. I guess.” He stares into his own lap, into his traitorous hands. 

And Derek is quiet these days- even quieter than usual if that’s possible. He comes home smelling of decay and pain and of the sewers. Of flesh blood. The violent scent rouses Stiles before the alpha even comes in from the garage. The raw smell of two iron hands ripping and punching and beating their way the underbelly of Nero. Always another informant beaten into giving information, always another dark layer closer to Bordella. No. Derek doesn’t talk about it, but he doesn’t have to either. Something in Stiles has changed and he knows exactly what kind of brutality the alpha has been getting up to on the streets, and it should be an ugly, hateful thing. The violence, the torture- the sheer inhumanity. Stiles has witnessed it in this man first hand. Derek should be an ugly, hateful thing to Stiles. Stiles can’t understand why he’s not. 

“That’s good.” Lydia nods over her tea. Stiles’ face doesn’t even change expression in reply. “I was worried he’d be alpha-ing out all over the place on you. He’s been... well... he’s been aggressive in the streets lately.”

Stiles always assumed if he ever got into a relationship that lasted more than a very quick weekends the alpha would set the pace for the relationship, that Stiles would know what to expect, be able to follow some kind of normative social script. It would be fun- Stiles had once thought with what feels like now to be a absurd amount of optimism. The alpha would plan dates, would set the course, would hold Stiles hand through it all, and try to win his approval and affection in some kind of merry, normal, whatever-the-fuck-Stile-had-thought-dating-would-be. But this- this isn’t a ‘relationship,’ or if it is Stiles doesn’t want it to be, and weekends aren’t a thing when you’re nocturnal. There is no direction from Derek. No indication of how this should play out, nothing grounding their interactions in reality, no responsibility, and no respect. Stiles gets angry. Stiles’ body rebels and aches and burns and he longs to be soothed and calmed and gentled and to know something solid in his new world of chaos. Derek touches him and gets him off. The cycle starts again. Other than that Derek never asks anything of him and Stiles has nothing in him to give. Stiles only wants... he only burns with a simmering, aching need for the silent alpha... and it kills him. 

Lydia leaves him soon after that, resting, propped up on a green sofa in the house’s library. He doesn’t always stay in the dungeon of Derek’s den anymore, and has taken to venturing out occasionally. The actual house upstairs is light and sunny and as beautiful a place as has ever been in Nero, and yet morning after morning Stiles always returns down Derek’s den to get whatever sleep his hellish psyche will afford him. Stiles is always exhausted. Always sleep-deprived. Always starved for rest the way someone who’s been without food would be. He falls into a restless sort of doze now, a book open on his chest. The nightmares come again like a noose dragging him into the grave. Stiles grapples at air and cries out, fighting for his life, fighting for his own mind. Strong hands cover his and an alpha’s scent is suddenly surrounds him.

“Derek!” Stiles chokes out, his large eyes springing open in the now light-filled library. Two brilliant blue eyes stare back at him, gentle and filled with concern. A strange blond alpha sits, crouched next to the sofa, holding Stiles’ hands gently. Stiles blinks up at this kind face, letting out a soft breath of relief at being free of the nightmare. He tries not to think about how he’s wondering where Derek is and how this is the first time Derek hasn’t been the one to wake him from the dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Sneak Peek of new Tumblr fic. I'm going to try that site for a while. I''ll be posting there a week before here. Follow me: http://loserchicwrites.tumblr.com/


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